


The beauty of persuading you

by Alaqella



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: But he's not a bad guy, First Kiss, M/M, Masturbation, Persuading, Peter acts creepy, Peter is having a hell of fun, Scenting, Set between Season 2 and 3, Slow Build, Some bits of manipulation, The Alpha Pack, inappropriate gifts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-13
Updated: 2013-06-29
Packaged: 2017-12-14 20:50:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/841237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alaqella/pseuds/Alaqella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Alpha pack is messing around and getting on Derek's nerves, while on the other side of the town Peter is starting playing his own game in getting Stiles on his side. Not that Stiles would admit he finds his company anything else but troublesome...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've started to write this some weeks ago, the new episodes kick the plot up. Set after Season 2, using information from Season 3. 
> 
> At first I was writing this much darker and I was planning to make Peter a big of manipulator, but... Somehow, very soon I deleted all the dub/con stuff and in the end Peter started smiling under my fingers and even acting... nice?
> 
> Basically, I love Peter to death and PeterXStiles needs more of consensual fics

“As I have already said,” Derek’s voice resonates through the large rust-eaten doors in the moment Stiles is about to open them, “You don’t have to agree, you can beat the shit out of him if you can, but you have to accept Peter as an equal member of this pack as all of you. End of discussion.” Derek flashes his eyes at Isaac who obediently shifts back to his human form and stops growling at Peter.

 

Derek wisely rented a new apartment on the opposite side of the town than was the Hale’s house and left the past behind in a process including a transaction on his bank account. Unfortunately, for Stiles, he has to drive twenty more minutes to get there and today he had to undergo one shopping stop.

 

Stiles sneaks along without paying much attention to them, only locks his eyes with Scott who grins and nods at him. After that, he goes straight into a barely equipped kitchen on the right inside and drops his bags with takeaway Chinese’s on a kitchen table. Derek has created a special account for the _pack’s expense_ and they have been regularly alternating in bringing food and supplies. He turns around for plates and jumps on the spot when he sees Peter leaning against a wall that can be called a door frame.

 

“Jesus! Did they throw you out?” He grits his teeth and slams the kitchen cabinet shut harsher than he should have.

 

 “I prefer to call it Derek kindly asking me to give you a helping hand.” Peter reaches and catches his wrist. “Let me take this for you.” He slowly runs his hands over Stiles’ and takes the pile of plates from him. Stiles stares down a while at their joined hands before stepping back shaking nervously. He turns away from him and takes out the first box. According its smell he recognizes chicken with sweet-sour sauce for Allison.

 

“It’s always a pleasure to see you, Stiles.” Peter is still standing behind him.

 

“The pleasure is all yours. You’re just messing with people. Nobody would miss you if you decided to leave the town for a while.” Or _permanently._

 

“Aren’t we having a kind of a daring tongue?”

 

“You are one to talk as you are the first un-dead I’ve helped to kill,” Stiles makes a funny face. “I forget my manners around you, I guess.”

 

Peter clicks his tongue. “Perhaps I could teach you some manners,” he mutters close to his ear and his hand strokes Stiles’ lower back shortly before disappearing from the room. Stiles stares into the empty hallway after him, then shakes his head and continues to unpack their dinner.

 

ˇˇˇˇˇˇ

 

Stiles isn’t that surprises to see his window open when he comes home from lacrosse training the other day.

 

“Get out,” he mutters in the direction of the man’s figure sitting in his chair and unashamedly going through his stuff on his table while he goes to his wardrobe for a clean shirt.

 

“You are being impolite to your guest.”

 

“Being a guest requires an invitation.”

 

“Is that so?”

 

“What do you want,” Stiles replies as he is going back to the door. He doesn’t manage it because before he could leave, Peter is on his feet and blocks the way with his arm. Stiles brings his eyes to his face for the first time.

 

“Just a little chat,” Peter smiles wickedly and against his will Stiles shivers and looks down. He considers his options, he could try to run away, his car keys are in his pocket, but his phone is in his bag next to his bed and he wouldn’t have enough time to get it before Peter would stop him.

 

“I don’t think there is anything we can talk about,” he rocks back on his heels and shoves his palm against the man’s shoulder. “What about you leaving and then I can finally take a shower?”

 

Peter’s arm is solid when Stiles presses against it. “As soon as you hear me out, I’ll go.”

 

Stiles wriggles on his spot impatiently. “Fine,” he mutters and turns around. “Make yourself comfortable. Make yourself a nest if it helps.” He can’t stop the sarcasm running from his mouth and throws his arms into the air, but he doesn’t get to move away as Peter sneaks his one hand around his waist effectively stopping him, his chest presses to his back.

 

“I’ll do my best.” He runs his nose through Stiles’ hair and sniffs. The boy shudders and jumps away from him.

 

“Don’t do those creepy werewolf things on me, okay?” He points at him. “I’ll be here and you stay over there.”

 

“Is my presence making you nervous?” Peter tilts his head questioningly and goes to him.

 

“How could a psychotic werewolf in my room make me nervous? I’m completely fine, don’t you see?” Stiles takes a step back, but stumbles over his feet and catches the edge of his bed to steady himself. “I really don’t want to die today. It’s pointless to have my death on your list. It’s pretty full already. Hurting people is bad, don’t you know?” Stiles babbles as he falls on his ass on the bed and stares up at him.

 

“Killing you isn’t on my nowadays agenda, but I can promise you, if I ever have to kill you, I’ll make sure it won’t be meaningless.”

 

“Strangely, your promises never make me feel better.”

 

The bemused smile on the man’s face only widens and he steps closer to him again. “And now to why I’m here. Take off your shirt.”

 

“Uh, no?”

 

“It’s not a proposal for a strip. I actually need your shirt.”

 

“Is this a werewolf thing? Are you going to do a voodoo doll from it? If it’s something sick I don’t even want to know. You should have just taken some from my laundry and never tell me.”

 

“And miss this conversation with you? Tut-tut, Stiles. Now, will you give me the shirt or do you want me to make you?”

 

The bold _make me_ immediately itches at the tip of his tongue, but he only takes in a deep breath before pulling his shirt over his head and putting on the clean one with a deep blush in his face. Peter moves close enough to take it from the bed,  and bring it to his nose to sniff it with his eyes stay fixed upon Stiles’.

 

“Will you give it back?”

 

“I’ll see you later, Stiles,” Peter gives him one last smirk before heading to the window and disappearing out.

 

ˇˇˇˇˇˇ

 

He really, really doesn’t wish it to be happening. And being participated on it. Deliberately. Knowingly. But Peter is following him simply everywhere.

 

He runs his fingers over Stiles’ back while passing by him, or _accidentally_ touches his leg with his under a table, or holds a door for him with a smirk on his face. He enjoys making him jump in surprise with appearing behind him and leaning against his arm or gives him a _helping_ hand when he has a trouble to carry something heavy. Sometimes it looks like an accident, just a brush that can happen in a room full of people, but sometimes Stiles knows, Peter touches him with an intention. He can’t exactly tell him to stop, because these aren’t any proves of his actions and simple ‘don’t touch me’ doesn’t have the desired effect and Peter even publicly accuses him of making things up and seeing things where they aren’t after he’s tried to scold him after brushing his hand over Stiles’ leg

 

And well…yeah. It does feel good.

 

That’s also why he doesn’t fight it that much. He only doesn’t what it could cause if he started to pay him the attention back. Not that he doesn’t want to.

 

ˇˇˇˇˇˇ

 

Stiles is earlier this time when he arrives at the new Derek’s loft, it’s upon Scott and Allyson to go shopping this time. He feels the eyes on his back while against his better judgment he moves on the side of the room where Peter’s looming by a window. He sits on a sofa near to him and doesn’t need to wait long for Peter moving to stand behind him with his hand leaning against the backrest and simultaneously Stiles’ head. A _probably_ human nail slowly scratches up and down over his neck and under his chin and sends a cold chilling down the Stiles’ spin and _lower_ to his groin, but a minute or two later Peter goes out of the room, leaving Stiles alone and he can breathe normally again. Derek is coming down the stairs with Isaac in a second later with a hammer and a water-level in his hands and he gives Stiles a few seconds longer look than is normal when he enters the room and Stiles can see how he sharply takes in an air through his nose.

 

He feels like he can’t do anything that the werewolves wouldn’t notice. His fear, anger, sadness, nervousness or _arousal_ \- he can hold his back straight up and face blank, but his strongly beating heart, quickened breath and sweat strolling down his back always betray him. But nobody ever tells anything aloud. Sometimes when something concerns him, he feels as Derek or Isaac dedicate him a glance, but they never _ask._  

 

But Peter, he does. He’s not afraid giving others questions that hurt; he digs into the ache spot and makes them squirm. Nevertheless, it seems he has an odd fondness in asking Stiles _in private._ His visits in his room become regular and Stiles hates to admit it, but he is always waiting if he shows up that night, again. Locking the window or repeating requests to be left alone never help and in the bottom of his soul he knows he actually doesn’t mean them that seriously. Despite everything that happened, he doesn’t feel such antipathy to him that he would guess.

 

The man asks him about Stile’s mother while going through pictures on his table, his dad as he reads files of old cases that Stiles keeps secretly in his drawers. The other day he would sniff around the room and ask him about a little stuff he keeps around, his memories in a form of posters, toys or books. But his questions are trivial only at the beginning, he goes deeper to find Stiles’ dreams, his fears; what he likes or dislikes. Stiles feels like enduring a sociological project and tries to avoid most of the questions or ignoring him. Which is not much as optional under his piercing stare.

 

Having conversations with Peter Hale is never what he accepts to be and he fights with his embarrassment to answer truthfully. Because when he would say a lie, Peter would stand up and leave and maybe not come over for a couple of days. He once didn’t return for five days in a row and Stiles almost called him, but he stopped himself. He didn’t wish him to come, right?

 

Peter has to know how this affects him. Stiles has already stopped asking him why he’s doing it. But he never lets Stiles to win. It’s a truth he mostly appears when his dad isn’t home, but it’s not a rule. He never allows Stiles to decide when they would meet again. He’s tried to come over to Derek’s flat after school, just to find it empty or at least Peter-free. And then Stiles has to wait at home for him. He hates that. The waiting. Pack meetings are the only time he can be prepared.

 

After they are all finished with their dinner and the plates and forks are put into a sink, Derek leans back in his seat and clears his throat. It’s a clear sign he has something he wants to say and with eyes fixed on a wall he starts to talk.

 

“We’ve decided to do some arranging before the summer, since the Alpha pack left the sign, we can’t let them hit first now. Stiles, Scott and Jackson are always going to drive to school and back together in one car with Isaac, Peter or me until the school is over. We are going to stick together and nobody can stay alone or they can kill us one by one. They probably are holding Erika and Boyd as captives, we are still searching for them,” Derek meets his eyes with Peter who nods.

 

Lydia clicks her tongue disapprovingly. “And what about me and Allyson? No car is that big and Jackson-”

 

“You two are fine for now; from what we know, they aren’t interested in the humans.” Derek interrupts her and she frowns. “But, nevertheless, you are going to have to learn how to protect yourself.”

 

“I can teach her,” Allyson offers. “But my dad can’t know. He locked all the weapons in the basement and pretends hunters never existed.”

 

“We’ll figure it out, come with ideas when you have them sorted. Go home now,” Derek answers shortly as he wishes them to leave and stands up.

 

“Hey! And what about this human over here? Shouldn’t I have some training? I want my gun, too,” Stiles calls out after Derek shows them his back. He doesn’t answer and disappears from the room through the spiral stairs. Allyson ignores him completely. Stiles throws his arms in the air and looks around. Isaac avoids his eyes, Scott with Allyson as same as Lydia with Jackson are already at the door and only Scott turns around and shrugs at him before going out. Only Peter holds his look but doesn’t say anything.

 

“Fine.” He mutters more to himself and stands up. Words like _useless_ and _alone_ screams in his head when he goes to the door, but he can’t close them as Peter’s hand is holding the door knob from the other side. 

 

“I’m going with you,” Peter says as it’s obvious.

 

“No!” Stiles’ heart jumps with the image of being with him alone and tugs the door again.

 

“You are not driving alone, didn’t you hear the _Alpha_?” Peter plays with the last word in a mocking way. Stiles turns his desperate eyes at Isaac, but Peter calls out at Derek who after a while comes back.

 

“Derek, tell Stiles here with whom he’s driving home.”

 

Derek blows out an air from his nose, obviously suppressing an anger that Stiles doesn’t know from where it’s coming. To Stiles disappointment he doesn’t point at Isaac as he hoped, but throws his head at Peter who grins widely.

 

“Told you,” he mutters into Stiles’ ear and shoves him forward.

 

“He hates me,” Stiles whines and Peter behind him laughs. Stiles wants to wipe the smile off his face. “But how will you get back if you go with me now? Are you going to run back over the city?”

 

“Don’t be worry, I’ll manage.” His palm is placed on his neck as they are coming close to the exit of the old building; Stiles can already see his car and quickens his steps.

 

“Stiles, wait,” Peter’s voice hits him from behind and he freezes. “Should I really believe,” Peter says and makes one or two steps forward. “That you are so annoyed by me,” his hand appears on his side and his fingers slightly delved to his ribs. “Or are you acting up for the rest of them as you are afraid to show, you don’t exactly hate me?”

 

Stiles looks down at Peter’s wolfed out hand. “I might not wish to see you dead anymore, but take your fucking claws of me. I’m sure Derek can hear me if I scream and he won’t miss a chance to kick your ass.”

 

“He doesn’t care about you.”

 

“And you? What are trying to prove here by showing off your strength? We both know you are much stronger than me, are you going to force me though?” Peter doesn’t answer verbally, but his arm moves away from Stiles’ body.

 

“That’s right; buddy, no bad touching and we can be fine.”

 

“Your body is peculiarly sensitive to my touch,” Peter continues after he settles in a passenger’s seat.

 

“That doesn’t give you a right to do it.”

 

“It gives me an opportunity.”

 

“I offer a finger and you take a whole hand?”

 

“Try me and see.”

 

“That’s fine,” he says wryly; Peter shrugs and turns his head to look out of a window.

 

They are driving through the city in an evening sunlight in a content silent. Stiles doesn’t cross the speed limit at any point, even the traffic is low and he didn’t notice a single police car.

 

And after he stops on a traffic light near to his house, Peter wordlessly exits the car and gets lost between the buildings.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for you feedback after the first chapter.
> 
> This paring brings a light into my life. Hopefully, they will have enough scenes in the Monday's episode;)

Stiles finds looming Peter in his room more and more often. The man keeps usually some distance between them and sometimes he doesn’t even talk; only reacts to Stiles’ words through a couple of gestures with his eyebrows.

 

“If you are planning on showing up like this all the time, we should make a regime.” Stiles starts one evening. Peter glances up from a book he’s been reading silently since he came in and fixes his eyes with Stiles with his eyebrows up in his hair. “I can’t focus on my homework when I don’t know if you would come. I’m failing my grades because of you.”

 

“That’s not my problem. Do your homework before I come.”

 

“But I can’t focus! You are distracting me even when you are not around.”

 

Peter’s face lights up with a huge grin and Stiles knows he shouldn’t say that. Because that is exactly what the man has been trying to do since the first moment.

 

“I still don’t understand why you are even here; I guess it has something to do with the Alpha pack?” He asks but no answer comes. “I asked Derek, but he brushed me off, too. I don’t know what is going on, but if you want to continue, you have to make a time schedule. I’m sick of being your puppet.”

 

“Still not my problem.” Peter’s eyes are glutted to the book again.

 

Stiles turns back to his laptop but his fingers freeze above the keyboard. He takes in a breath before spinning on the chair again.

 

“What would make you to change your mind? You are here because you want something from me, aren’t you? And because I’m not physically able to stop you from climbing into my window in every few days, I would like to make some rules.”

 

He finally manages to hold Peter’s attention for enough time and the man brings his eyes up.

 

“Do you want rules? For every one you make, I’ll make one mine, too.”

 

“Fine,” Stiles proceeds through his teeth. “We will make a schedule when you can show up and you will always text me if you won’t.”

 

“That’s two.”

 

“No, it’s not. It’s one conditional,” Stiles protests and Peter smiles. He rises up from his seat. Stiles is staring up at him with worried eyes and gulps when the man stops in front of him. Peter’s finger touches his shoulder and makes a path up to his ear.

 

“I can touch you anytime I want,” Peter whispers and leans into Stiles’ face. “Anywhere I want. From the waist up.” Stiles stares intensely at the other man. No, no, no, he can’t, he just can’t _say it aloud._

 

“No claws allowed,” Stiles grits between his teeth finally and Peter’s mouth turns into a smirk.

 

He’s definitely going to regret this.

 

ˇˇˇˇˇˇ

 

“What’s that?” He asks as he drops his bag on his table next to a small box. He takes it to his hand and turns at Peter sitting in his chair, _again_. At least in a supposed hour. He opens the lid and stares in.

 

“A phone?” Stiles dumbly takes out one of the newest smart phones available on the market and turns it around in his palm.

 

“I’ve heard you’ve lost yours in the fight with the Kanima.”

 

Stiles fishes out the old one he’s been using since the previous has been drowned in the school swimming pool; the screen freezes again when he wants to unlock it. _For your birthday maybe, okay, Stiles?_ His dad said when he asked him.

 

“Did Derek send it?”

 

“No.”

 

There is only one option then. “Why did you?” He looks up into his eyes, calculating his reasons and intentions.

 

“It’s only reasonable to be sure you are in the connection with the rest of the pack. If Derek doesn’t remember that, somebody has to.”

 

Stiles snorts. “But, this is really expensi-”

 

“Stiles,” Peter firmly cuts off his protests and stands up. _Oh no_. “It’s simple, take out your sim card and put it into the new one,” Peter orders quietly as he slowly comes closer. Stiles fingers are shaking when he quickly opens both covers, but he is not quick enough and Peter is already there. When he clicks the cover back and slides his fingers over the smooth material to turn it on, he makes the mistake and looks up into his eyes.

 

“It’s still an inappropriate gift,” he protests meekly and looks down again. The device turns alive in his hand with a soft vibration and introduction melody.

 

“Five nine four two,” Peter says Stiles’ pin code without hesitation, Stiles feels shivering down his spine while putting it in. Of course, he’s correct. He has to change it. And on his laptop, email… The phone wants a password from him now. He meets Peter’s eyes again, expectantly. The man stares back with a quirked eyebrow and mischievous smile. Stiles writes _bastard_ first for his own satisfaction and then _peter_ after he’s asked to try again. The phone gets heavier in his hand. He shouldn’t keep it. This is obviously an obligation and if he lets Peter get closer to him, he will surely regret it later.

 

“If I accept this, what are you going to ask back?” He mutters while brushing his thumb over the screen while checking on the functions and apps it has.

 

“Promise me to answer if I call or write you.”

 

“That’s all?”

 

“Yes. You can write me first, of course.”

 

He hides the screen from the man, opens a new text and writes him: ‘ _Go away_.’

Peter smirks when it vibrates in his pocket.

_‘Make me.’_

He returns immediately and Stiles’ glances up. The man’s eyes are full of playful sparks.

 

“Is there anything about it I should know? Any GPS locator paired with your phone?”

 

“Your location is traceable for me, yes. But that’s for your protection.”

 

“Of course it is; I would never ever have a thought you could use it for stalking me. Can I trace you back?”

 

“Maybe later.”

 

“Hey, I have a friend who sees into this, so if it’s bugged-”

 

“Stiles, the phone is fine,” Peter denies his protests and takes it from his hand, placing it on a table, hidden under his palm.

 

“Now, tell me about your favourite type of food.”

 

Stiles glances at the hand on his table, then back up to the man’s face and sighs. This is going to be a long night.

ˇˇˇˇˇˇ

 

If the phone was inappropriate, the next gift is… extravagant. It’s a card in an elegant envelope waiting for him on his pillow. A $150 gift card for one year premium account on Stiles’ favourite porn website. Gay porn, of course. He is able to resist the need for whole afternoon, making circles around his room nervously and biting his nails off.

 

However, after he hopelessly jerks off in the shower on the thought of Peter wanting him to touch himself, he logs in and whines over the hundred hours of videos suddenly available for him. He isn’t supposed to come over this night, but when Stiles’ hand sneaks into his boxers, he can’t erase out off his mind the thought of him being outside. And the dominant actor with dark hair and blue eyes fucking the helpless youngster isn’t quite helping, too.

 

The satisfied smile plastered over the man’s face after he jumps into the room and takes a deep breath gives Stiles chilling down his stomach, he can’t only decided if the chilling is bad or good.

 

“What are you working on?” Peter asks as Stiles doesn’t pay attention to him and leans over his shoulder to look at his writing.

 

“Math,” he mutters and ignores the shivering from his voice near his ear.

 

“Seemed like you were enjoying your gift,” Peter purrs as he leans with his palm on Stiles’ table and unashamedly sniffing in Stiles’ scent.

 

“Why can’t this be your quiet evening? I have a lot of work to do.”

 

“I’m too much bored for reading. I want to play tonight.”

 

“Then go out and find something. I’m stressed from school and definitely not in the mood for you.”

 

“And then I was sure that releasing your sexual frustrations would boost up your spirit.”

 

“My spirit can be raised by getting a good grade on tomorrow test.”

 

“How long are you going to study?” Peter finally stops pushing and sits down to his chair.

 

“Until my brain can absorb new information.”

 

Peter hums and closes his eyes while tilting his head back. Is he seriously going to sleep here? Stiles watches his calm face for a while before getting up and going down to the kitchen for an energy drink. He opens the can while coming up the stars and quickly sips around the opening, but he nearly chokes on it when he enters his room and sees the man lying on his bed.

 

“Seriously?” He stares at him and Peter smiles with his eyes closed. He puts the can on his table and moves to the bed, hands on his hips. With a satisfied smile he grips the man’s leg and it twitches under his touch.

 

“No shoes on my bed,” he starts tugging on his shoelaces and taking off his boots, putting them on the floor by the bed. He quickly glances in Peter’s face, but it’s not reciprocated. He takes the comforter from the bottom of the bed and puts it over him as best as he can, but it’s too small to cover him whole. He waves his hand over it, it’s enough weird now and he returns to his table. He doesn’t turn around when he hears Peter wrapping into the comforter or when he finally snuggles under his sheets about a half an hour later. What Stiles does is taking his new phone and snapping a few pictures, because the absurdness of the situation is finally getting to him.

 

He lets the sleeping wolf lie by.

 

He works while listening to a regular breathing of the man, interrupted when he rolls over or takes in a deep breath time to time. When Stiles finally goes to brush his teeth and wash his face, it’s about two in the morning and after he gets back, the bed is empty. He feels a little sting of disappointment from his sudden absence, but it gets better as he snuggles under the warm sheets and puts his head on the pillow soaked with a manly smell.

 

He’s falling asleep as the room is suddenly lighted from his phone when he gets a new text.

 

 _‘Good night, Stiles.’_ His heart jumps with an excitement and he quickly writes him back.

 

_‘Good night, wolfie.’_

Stiles bites on his lip as he puts the phone back on his bedside table and hugs the pillow tightly. He falls asleep with a smiles on his lips.

 

ˇˇˇˇˇˇ

 

His veins are filled with adrenaline when he spots a new box after coming home from school on Friday. _He’s buying you_ his brain warns him but he brushes it off. He’s aware of it, but getting gifts is _nice_. Addictive.

 

But, this time, the box almost falls down from his hands. It’s a flashlight, a freaking sex toy and a bottle of lube in addition. He violently blushes red and sends him a text.

 

_‘Take it back or I’m going to break your scull with it.’_

 

_‘Enthusiasm, I like that.’_

 

_‘I’ll never use it.’_

_‘Enjoy your gift or would you like me to come over and give you a helping hand? It’s user-friendly, they say.’_

 

A half on an hour later, Stiles is in a bathroom without any windows, his hand is nervously holding the toy and he caresses the material. It’s soft and immediately warms up under his fingertips, _tempting._ He tries to put fingers into the whole and the flex material immediately sucks them in and he feels the good pressure when moving them out again. He swears to kill the man when he tugs his clothes down and licks his palm before stroking himself shortly, he gets hard ridiculously fast. A short thought of being unhygienic flies in his mind but he’s already bringing the sex toy to his tip and leading himself in. It’s so better than he expected that he gasps and tilts his head up, staring up at a ceiling and thanking to god. After two strokes he groans when it tugs his skin and finds the lube. That’s definitely much better and he thrust inside the transparent piece of plastic after he makes a few steps back and leans against a wall. After few strokes he gives up and slides on the floor, changing the angle to increase the pressure on his cock and digs his nails to his thigh when a first wave of a pleasure hits.

 

This is why people pay for sex. Why they buy prostitutes and spend gallons of money for toys like this. Stiles have never used anything than his hand and if he keeps his eyes closed, he can only feel the abnormally hot tight clench all around him; he’s never felt anything this close to a normal sex and his desire only grows. His orgasm comes quickly after he moves his wrist faster and holds in his breath.

 

He’s totally spent and a few seconds just rests against the wall until he calms down, before he stands up and cleans himself. The toy is completely washable, but he can’t shake off his embarrassment while cleaning it. But better is to do it immediately than thinking about it later. Back in the room he puts it into the box and hides under a bed, only the lube he shoves into a drawer of his bedside table. His phone beeps with a new text and he doesn’t even have to see the name to know from who it is. He’s so screwed.

 

ˇˇˇˇˇˇ

 

Stiles likes to experiment with the wolf’s powers, because if he thinks about that, Peter’s presence is an amazing advantage for finding out more about this world. He moves a bottle with mountain ash into the corner with a chair which Peter’s made his territory for their evenings and makes a line along it. Later that day he sits on his bed and reads whatever he finds first. He is fighting with a smile as Peter stops walking across the space when he gets into the room and wants to move to his chair.

 

“Very funny.”

 

“What it does to you?” Peter slightly growls but doesn’t answer. “Oh, come on! I’ve answered you a lot of questions I wished nobody would ask me. Give me some reciprocation.”

 

“It’s like a barrier that makes my wolf to retreat. Survivor instinct, I would say, that never lets me get closer.”

 

“And what it would do to you?”

 

“I don’t know, it’s energy. Like an invisible wall I can’t go through.”

 

“Cool,” Stiles grins.

 

“But now I have to sit somewhere else,” Peter says and takes a seat on the chair by his table. Stiles’ phone chimes with a text and he bends down over the edge of the bed for his bag. He doesn’t see as Peter reaches for his laptop, turns it on from a sleep, quickly puts in a password and goes into his browser. Stiles doesn’t react as quickly as he wishes because he had no idea Peter knew his password. His new password. Peter is in his history and smirking when Stiles raises up after he finds his phone in the bag and immediately jumps up and closes the laptop.

 

“How did you know-”

 

“Come on,” Peter rolls his eyes. “You would never believe how much you can ascertain from a person’s browser history.”

 

“I delete it every night!”

 

“You delete it only from the local memory, but not from your Gmail account that collects everything you ever google because you never log off. If you know where to look it’s easy.”

 

“How? How could you know this if you were years in comma?”

 

“I have a lot of free time. And getting inside your head is a pleasurable way how to spend it. For a virgin you visit particular websites very often.”

 

“I’m a teenager, what do you expect,” Stiles scoffs but his face heats up.

 

“Maybe you could sit on the table here and we can talk about what you were watching this afternoon before I came.” Peter taps the desk in front of him and looks up to his face. As Stiles is frozen on his spot, Peter grips his hips and moves Stiles closer to him before lifting him up. Stiles quickly grasps the edge to steady himself and pushes his belongings from under his ass to sit comfortable. As much comfortable as he can get when he is glaring down at Peter and panting irregularly. Peter’s hands are on his thighs and spreading his legs.

 

“You shouldn’t- You shouldn’t touch me like this.” Stiles catches his hands.

 

“Should I stop then?” Peter looks like he is prepared to take them off and it calms Stiles down.

 

“I don’t feel being able to make that decision.”

 

“Then put your arms behind your back. We agreed I could touch from the waist up as much as I wanted. But it doesn’t exclude touching you anywhere else. Only if you forbid it.” His hands stop and he fixes his eyes with Stiles who nods and moves his arms back to lean on his palms.

 

“Just keep it cool, will ya? I’m still a minor and the sheriff’s son.”

 

“Your age is in a huge disproportion with your intelligence. You’re lacking on experiences, but you already have the knowledge.”

 

“So it’s like when the victim knows he has Stockholm syndrome but doesn’t fight it?”

 

Peter’s face turns into a sour expression and clicks his tongue. “You are not a victim.”

 

“Yet.”

 

Peter takes in a deep breath. “Look, you can walk away and I’ll let you. You can make a line of mountain ash around the room and keep me out if that would make you feel safe.”

 

“But you will come back. And we would still see each other at pack meetings. You could follow me on the way back home from school, jumping me in front of the house-”

 

“Would I?”

 

“You are a sociopath.”

 

“Really, doctor?” Peter sighs. “Contrary to popular belief, I feel some empathy.”

 

“Or you think you do, victims of trauma you’ve experienced-” Peter cuts him off by tightening his grip.

 

“You don’t know-” Peter warns him with his voice, but now it’s Stiles, who talks.

 

“You do things you need for surviving, but do you actually feel love for Derek, your family? Do you feel worried when a member of your pack is under a hunter’s or wolf’s attack, like Erika and Boyd? Or is it about _numbers_?”

 

Peter doesn’t respond immediately. Instead he slips his hand over Stiles’ right leg and takes off his shoe and sock. He doesn’t know what to expect, though his body tenses when Peter uses his fingers to massage Stiles’ foot. Finally he looks up again with a serious face.

 

“I _am_ happy when a member of my pack survives as same as those two are worrying me. Pack is important. Even if I were, as I’m not, sociopaths can feel emotional attachment to others. And trust me when I say, I would miss our evenings if you got killed.”

 

“You would miss the game, not me.”

 

The hand stops for a moment before moving again. Peter’s fingers are gentle but thorough and his toes are curling from the pleasure.

 

“If you think this why do you stay? Why are talking to me?” Peter stares into his eyes and holds his feet tightly. “Why your heart skips a beat when I arrive? You’re excited that I’m here, aren’t you?”

 

Stiles is unknowingly shaking his head as he disapproves with his words. He’s asking the questions Stiles doesn’t want to answer to his own conscience. He didn’t choose this, it just happened… Peter came and he let him in. But what were his choices?

 

“It’s not unlike that two persons become closer when they spend an enough amount of time together.”

 

“But why is that?” Peter’s voice is serious and Stiles can sense the change of the atmosphere. He feels a bit of loss when Peter moves his hands to take his other shoe down, leaving Stile’s right foot leaning against his thigh.

 

“I don’t know.” Stiles shifts on the table when his other foot is rubbed with Peter’s fingers, but keeps his arms behinds his back (the knowing of doing it wilfully makes him shiver) and he puts a bigger pressure on his right leg that makes the man’s mouth to curl up.

 

“Oh, but you do. Is it because Scott is with Allyson, Lydia with Jackson? They are all glutted together, aren’t they? And Isaac is Derek’s puppy who shows him his belly every time he can, but Derek isn’t paying him the attention. And there are you, in here with me trying to convince me it’s all your choice?”

 

“I didn’t have a choice. You came to me.”

 

“Derek’s orders.”

 

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

 

“Fine, my ulterior motives supported by Derek’s hesitation in his Alpha position gave me an opportunity to take from him the control he could have over you.”

 

“He’s not interested in that. Nobody is ever longing after me, I don’t get and valentine’s card from secret admires and I’m not a school jock that makes girls’ knees weak. To you, I’m just an easy prey, right?” He whispers, looks to the side and blinks his eyes to suppress a wet itching in them. He wonders how it is to be strong. Like… like a werewolf.

 

“If I were the Alpha now I wouldn’t have to hold back with you, but do anything I wanted.”

 

“And what that is?” He fixes his look with Peter’s again and the man’s eyes only slightly twitch when Stiles slides his foot over his thigh until he feels the hardness under his toes. He’s afraid what he can cause with this, but at least it does _something_.

 

“You have my attention, boy.” Peter’s hand quickly catches his ankle. “Use it wisely.”

 

“Of course,” he replies. Peter is _aroused,_ basically from nothing. A man Stiles would never think that could find other men attractive. More logically it sounds that it’s from the situation, having the power and control over him. And that Stiles responds back to him.

 

He’s still not entirely sure if he should continue with this. If Peter hurt him or forced to do something he didn’t like, he wouldn’t have to think twice. But… he _likes_ this. He _likes_ this game, being tempted and manoeuvred with such an attention. The gifts. Why would Peter do this if he didn’t want him at all?

 

He winces a bit when Peter’s hand surprisingly drops his left foot to take out his phone from his pocket before it would even start to ring.

 

“Derek?” Stiles is rubbing him with his toes when Peter is listening for anything Derek is saying and his fingers are absently brushing over Stiles’ ankle while he’s looking up into his eyes.

 

“I’m kind of busy,” Peter’s palm moves up to his knee as much as the material of Stiles’ pants allows him. But he certainly doesn’t do anything to stop Stiles’ foot sliding over his leg and up to his groin. He’s wondering if Derek can hear through the phone his rising heart beat.

 

“I’m on my way,” Peter ends up the call eventually and pushes the phone back into his pocket.

 

“Emergency?” Stiles asks.

 

“It’s not a deadly situation.”

 

“I will be truly disappointed if you won’t show up tomorrow because you will be dead. Again.”

 

Peter’s eyebrows sprung up and he moves Stiles’ leg away as he stands up.

 

“Go sit into your little fort,” he says him and points at the chair lined around with a mountain ash. “There is a possibility you can have an unwelcomed visitor.”

 

“Don’t I already have one?” Stiles brushes his foot against Peter’s leg again.

 

 “Behave,” he says to Stiles with a slight slap on his thigh before stepping back and a moment later he’s gone.

 

Stiles stays sitting on the table and places his bare feet on the seat. It’s still warm and he snuggles his toes into the material and leans his chin on his knees. His pants are rolled up on his right leg and he pushes it down. He’s missing the warm from Peter’s palm on his leg and feels a bit lonely. He wants something more, not sure what that is. Stiles is actually surprised with the lack of _disgust_ and _restrains_ from his side, because it’s not exactly a common thing for him that he gets into an intimate contact with _anybody_ , additionally with an adult man. He can’t hide anymore he likes it, but an image of something more is a bit of scary. And he really doesn’t have an idea what is Peter’s goal. Beside the screwing thing, he surely gave Stiles enough hints to show he’s interested.

 

His phone, lying on the table next to his leg, chimes with a new text. He takes it and moves to the chair, checking if the line is undamaged. He looks at the screen to see he’s forgotten about the earlier message. They both are from Scott, one asking him for a lift to Derek’s place, cause he’s at Allyson’s, the other that it’s fine, Peter’s giving him one. And then he gets a third why in the hell Peter smells so weird. Ugh, this part is going to be ugly. He writes they can talk later and asks him what is happening.

 

_‘Not sure, sth in the woods.’_

 

_‘Call if you need any help.’_

Scott doesn’t write him again that evening, he’s not sure if he shouldn’t try to call him, but after a half an hour he gets seriously bored and lies into his bed but falls asleep before he can.

 

ˇˇˇˇˇˇ

 

Scott is in the school the next morning and he immediately covers him with questions. From Peter’s ‘not a deadly situation’ it turned into a hunt for a spy from the Alpha pack and Stiles wonders if they had fought him over and let go, but as Scott is looking on the ground, he knows the Alpha didn’t make the night.

 

“And won’t it the rest of them make angry?”

 

“I’m sure, they will be pissed off when they find out he won’t be coming back. Derek said us to be aware and stay in groups. What I understood, Peter is keeping an eye on you? But why him?”

 

“I know nothing about that, he just comes sometimes and stays for a while. You think he’s my guarding dog now?”

 

“That’s what I understood from their conversation. They have a pact as Derek told him to watch your house when you are in, every night.”

 

 _Every night?_ Derek telling Peter to guard him does make sense after all, considering Derek probably thinks it is a _punishment_ for Peter, and it would finally explain why the man is sitting in his room for hours and reading while they are not talking, but where does he spend the other days?

 

ˇˇˇˇˇˇ

 

“So, Scott told me about what Derek has told you,” Stiles asks after Peter comes in, settles down again in his chair and pretends Stiles is not in the room.

 

“And what Scott told you that Derek has told me?” He answers later, but continues with Stiles’ game and it makes the boy grin.

 

“That you are my guarding dog.”

 

Peter snorts. “That’s not-”

 

“But more interesting was when he said you were supposed to keep an eye on me _every_ night.”

 

Peter quickly gets the hint. “Maybe I don’t want to see your face every day.”

 

“Then you can sleep in the kennel all the time or what you’ve been doing. You’re still out there, even when you don’t come in, aren’t you?”     

 

“What is your point?” Peter’s voice is harsher as he’s irritated.

 

“You can stay inside if you want to. I don’t mind having you around.”

 

“That’s a new one?”

 

“Is it?” Stiles grits his teeth. “It’s over a month, three four times a week, that’s almost eighteenth night you are here. That’s enough to get used to someone’s company.”

 

“You still don’t look like to be ultimately keen of mine.”

 

“It’s- You know how it is.”

 

“I’m the only one who comes to visit you?”

 

Stiles’ jaw clenches and he glances out of his window without focusing his look on anything. “Is it even relevant in this case now? Huh? If you just sit there and look pretty, I’m fine with it.”

 

Peter shifts on the seat and Stiles thinks he has made him upset and now he wants to leave, but Peter just crosses one leg over the other and shrugs. Stiles eventually spins on his chair and goes back to read an article for his biology class.

 

“So pretty he says.” Peter can’t hold it back for more.

 

Stiles groans and hides his face in his hands. He really needs to study. However, Peter’s enjoyment in mocking Stiles is endless. When he makes him blush violently only with a few words, his smile doesn’t fade for a long time.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, choke on this pack feelings chapter.  
> The spoilers for tonight's episode are dreadful and here is a little bit of light to illuminate the darkness. New chapter will come up on Wednesday. Thursday if I die from the emotions.

Stiles parks his car in front of Scott’s house and the boy runs from the door in the very same second.

 

“Heeey,” Stiles grins as he jumps in.

 

“Gosh, does he bother you much?” Scott asks him.

 

“What?”

 

“Derek’s uncle. I know it must be upsetting that it has to be him whose been chosen to protect your house. I can smell him all over you now.”

 

“I’m… it’s not that bad. We made a regime that works for both side,” Stiles shrugs went he rides off the sidewalk. “And I feel safer if I know he’s somewhere around.”

 

“Does he come in often?”

 

“Nah, not much,” Stiles keeps his face blank and hopes Scott can’t recognise lies as well as Peter does. “Anything new?”

 

“Well, Allison has-”

 

“No, you dumbass. With the Alpha pack.”

 

“Oh, no what I know. Since we killed the one of them, they are awfully quiet.”

 

“Great,” Stiles scowls. “Awfully quiet, they had to be friends with Derek.”

 

“Do you think they can be planning something?”

 

“Dude, I’m sure they didn’t come here just to say hi. Why would they take Erika and Boyd?”

 

“I just hope it’s nothing bad.”

 

“Me too, Scott, me too.”

 

ˇˇˇˇˇˇ

 

Stiles is brushing a soiled pan; thoroughly cleaning the burnt chicken pieces on the bottom and wipes the sweat from his forehead with his forearm. He hears, actually hears, him going down the stairs.

 

“Even you know I’m down here and I’m alone, you can’t knock?” He mutters without turning around.

 

“Going in through your room is like stepping into a botanic garden through the main door every night. Why would I choose the back entrance for staff?”

 

“Doesn’t the whole house smell like me?”

  
“It doesn’t have the right pheromones.”

 

“What?”

 

“You don’t masturbate in every room of the house.”

 

“Nope, I didn’t want this question to be answered. Where have you been?” He finally snaps. On Tuesday morning when he was on his way with Scott to school, he received a text from Peter that said he was going to be absent until Friday. He didn’t give him any other explanation. The whole week was long and boring, he get used to the distraction of Peter in his room very quickly. Unfortunately, the end of school year was near and he had to study for test, but his concentration was on zero level.

 

“Hmm.” Peter runs his hand over his spine and Stiles leans to his touch. “Did you miss me? Is that why you are scratching the pan like a mad man, your voice is hiked and there is an uneaten chicken in the trash?”

 

At that Stiles finally stops his hands and wipes his face against his shoulder.

 

“No. It’s just,” he hangs his head down and leans on his palms over the sink. “I should have had a dinner with dad tonight, son and dad evening? I didn’t sit down with him for weeks or more. I don’t even know on which cases he’s working now. And I really tried hard on tonight and-and he just answered the phone after second call and said he forgot and wouldn’t come home until the next morning. Again.”

 

“Are you saying to _me_ you have a dysfunctional family and problems with communication?”

 

Stiles chuckles bitterly. “Right, you’re even more fucked up than I am. I often fail to remember.”

 

“Language,” Peter replies automatically. Stiles rolls his eyes, he’s scolding him like a kid again; he leans his side against the kitchen unit and exhaustedly throws the cleaning pad into the sink, grabbing his head into his hands and groaning.

 

“Let me,” Peter gently takes his hands from his face and leads to a table. “Sit,” he orders quietly and Stiles gladly obeys. Peter takes off his jacket and lays it over a chair, goes back to the sink and brings his hands into the water to continue cleaning. Stiles wants to laugh to the irony of the scene, but he just can’t and he feels tears of resignation in his eyes. He leans back in the chair and presses an arm over his eyes.

 

“Why are things getting so complicated? I’m not saying I’m not excited to be a part of your world, but why it is so ugly? How was your life before?”

 

Peter takes his time in looking for an answer. “Happy,” he answers quietly eventually and Stiles can’t even imagine what everything the man has lost in the fire. Stiles’ mum died when he was a kid and even he’s missing her, he doesn’t remember her so much as Peter has to remember every single person of his family, his fiancée, a person who he has proposed to spend the rest of his life together.

 

“You have to miss them.”

 

“I had enough years for grieving while I have been confined to hospital bed and slowly healing cell by cell. I’m concerning on the present. The pack.”

 

“Well, I’m not exactly a member of the pack,” Stiles spits bitterly and watches the strong muscles on the man’s back. They move when he reaches over to put a plate in a draining rack.

 

“Not officially, for the present.”

 

Stiles thinks of it, he knows he has a connection with Scott, which leads him to Peter as Scott’s maker, but it’s not that strong as if he would be his… partner? Sometimes it doesn’t feel like he’s anything more than a Peter’s toy for playing with, but truthfully they are slowly becoming more intimate and it leads him to think about other possibilities. He can’t deny they aren’t strangers anymore.

 

“How can a human be officially in the pack?” He tilts his head in a question and rubs his palms over his pants.

 

“Usually if it’s a family of a bitten person or being a mate.”

 

“Am I considered as a part of Scott’s family?”

 

“No, you are not. You came along with him, but you were never felt as you two are family bonded.”

 

Peter turns at him over his shoulder and they stare at each other for a while.

 

“I think I want to drop this subject for now,” Stiles adds quickly and stands up, eyes on a floor, but he feels the man’s glare on him. He distracts himself by finding a tea bag with a blackberry flavour in a cupboard above his head and throws it into a huge cup. For filling the jug kettle with water he has to lean over the sink and he presses with his side against Peter, who doesn’t move away and silently continues on his work.

 

A _mate_ Stiles wonders as he’s waiting for the water to boil and then waiting for the tea to be ready to drink. What that even means? It sounds animalistic and bounding. He feels older with Peter around; that the man is taking him seriously. But what can he see in him?

 

“Do you find me attractive?” He bursts out before he changes his mind and takes a step back when the man’s head springs up.

 

“I find you very delicious.” Peter’s tongue licks on his lips and eyes him up and down.

 

“Always the creepy way.”

 

“I beg to differ,” Peter smiles shortly. “Your scent is bizarrely appealing.”

 

“Is is bad?” Stiles gulps and leans against the kitchen unit after his cup is ready to drink and watches Peter finishing the cleaning. He moves quickly and effectively, using his superhuman strength to wipe everything dry and washes the sink in no time, too.

 

“Not for me,” Peter’s smile is intriguing when he leans against the desk side by side with Stiles and leans to his face. Stiles gives him a side look when he takes a sip on his tea.

 

Is it really possible for him to be considering having a real connection with him? The man’s brain is _healthy_ enough for him to be called sane again, but nothing that happened yet can erase the age gap between them.

 

He makes a mind note to search more about mates. His eyes drop down and he stares at Peter’s arms as the man is wiping them dry with a dish towel. Right under his folded sleeve near his elbow are two strange black dots he hasn’t noticed yet.

 

“What’s that?” He touches him and Peter hisses. “Are you hurt?” He gently brushes his fingers over the dark skin.

 

“I brought you a gift.”

 

“What?” Stiles stares at him as he doesn’t understand how can this be a gift. Peter reaches for his jacket and from his pocket he takes out a sealed plastic bag with a small can and hands it to him. Stiles turns it in his palm. “A pepper spray?” He guesses.

 

“Yes, but for werewolves. I want you to have it with you all the time, got it?”

 

“How did you make it?” He asks curiously.

 

“I had a help from an old family friend in Mexico. He did something similar years ago; we just had to figure it out how to make it safe for using. At first we were considering a knife soaked in wolfsbane, but it didn’t have the desired affect and you are obviously not trained in using them. And befriending with Allison, making you a hunter and letting you run around with a gun isn’t the best plan, too.”

 

“What it does?” Stiles decides to ignore his other suggestion and doesn’t take his eyes from Peter’s hurt arm. How strong it has to be if he hasn’t healed yet?

 

“Burns. If you are attacked, spray this into the werewolf’s face, it’s going to burn his eyes, mouth, you should generally aim at the mucous membranes.”

 

“But your arm-”

 

“We have been looking for the perfect mix and had to try it if it worked. I have been burnt alive, twice. This is nothing.” Peter brushes off his hand and tugs his sleeves back down. “Just be sure you don’t touch any of us if you are manipulating with the can. Keep it in the plastic for now.”

 

“I’m-yeah. Got it.”

 

“I have some business tonight, but I’ll pick you up tomorrow at four and drive to a meeting,” Peter turns around and he’s about to leave again.

 

“Wait!” Stiles is surprised from his sudden leaving, stumbles forward and Peter glances back at him. “I mean. Thanks, this is…” He gets nervous and lifts the bag unsurely. “You didn’t have to do it.”

 

“I’m making sure you’re safe,” Peter returns casually as it is a natural thing. “Have a good night, Stiles.” 

 

Stiles pretends he doesn’t hear his voice shaking when he answers him back _good night_ , too.

 

ˇˇˇˇˇˇ

 

_‘Change of plans. We are taking your car. Be outside in ten.’_

 

The text catches Stiles unprepared, he quickly runs to the kitchen to turn off a microwave. He’s been making popcorn because he thought he had about more than a half an hour of free time for a new episode of his favourite TV show. Unfortunately, the popcorn is almost done and the wave of sharp popping is getting weaker. He shrugs, gets back to his room to pack his wallet and phone in his bag, in the kitchen he takes out the paper packet and goes outside to lean against the front of his car. He’s smiling as he casually throws the small pieces in the air and tries to catch it with his mouth.

 

This is how Peter finds him, he’s _running_ towards him, Stiles doesn’t notice even a drop of sweat, and his expression is quiet hostile.

 

“Seriously, Stiles? Popcorn?”

 

“You caught me off guard. Want some?” He sticks the bag to his direction, but Peter doesn’t even bother to take hands from his pockets. “Come on, wolfie. When was the last time you had some? It’s butter flavoured, come on,” Stiles teases him and rattles the bag. Peter give ups, while rolling his eyes he reaches to take one piece and puts it into his mouth.

 

“Happy?”

 

Stiles pushes the bag into his hands. “You are going to have to hold it if you want me to drive.”

 

“Fine.” Peter yanks it from him and moves to the passenger’s side. He gives Stiles a pointed look with his hand on the door knob and Stiles grins back and unlocks the car. This is going to be fun.

 

“Why are we going early?”

 

“You will understand when we get there. Now drive.”

 

Stiles reaches for a handful of the popcorn and shoves it into his mouth before he starts the car. Peter is watching him with a twitching lip in disgust.

 

“You’re so filthy.” He takes out a new paper tissue and wipes the wheel and gear stick from Stiles’ greasy fingers.

 

“Bite me,” Stiles utters silently, but lets him to clean his hand, too. “I still want my popcorn,” he whines eventually and makes eyes on Peter.

 

“Focus on the road,” Peter grits between his teeth, takes out one piece and holds it in front of Stiles’ mouth. Stiles takes it from his fingers and chews while flushing red.

 

“Are you going to feed me the whole time?” He gives him a side and glance, Peter just shrugs and puts some into his mouth, too.

 

“Hah! I knew you liked it!” Stiles shouts victoriously.

 

“I never said I didn’t.”

 

When they finally arrive over Derek’s place, Stiles face is a mess, he and also his seat are covered in bits of popcorn as Peter couldn’t to aim his mouth because Stiles was laughing and shaking constantly. Peter after a while gave up on his effort of keeping him unstained and purposely made it more difficult for taking a bite.

 

After he jumps from the car, Stiles tries his best to clean his face and shakes off the rest of his clothes. Peter is shaking his head as hands him his bag. Nothing of this can ruin Stiles’ mood right now.

 

Peter tugs the door open for him and he lurks inside. “Derek, hi,” Stiles greets him cheerfully as he sees the man on a couch but he yanks back to collide with Peter’s chest when Derek jumps from his seat forward them and his eyes turn red.

 

“Whoah.” Stiles taps Peter’s arm and brings his wide eyes on him.

 

“Derek, calm down,” Peter steps forward and shows him his palms in a calming way. “This has a purpose.”

 

“What it is,” Derek growls but stops from wolfing out. Stiles gets the hint and takes the plastic bag with the spray from his bag. He offers it to Derek to look, but Derek instead takes a step back.

 

“Stiles, get back. Werewolves can’t get much close. Because of the pressure it emits a warning energy that makes our inner wolf back out. Fortunately, it gives you a time for escape, the can is also made of a mountain ash so nobody can take it from you, that’s already tested,” Peter explains and Stiles gaps in acknowledgment and lowers his arm.

 

“Sorry,” he mutters.

 

Peter turns to Derek who is staring intensely at them both. “Where you got it?” He asks suspiciously.

 

“I’ve made it while you were wasting time and running around the town. If the humans in our pack keep this close, they won’t get near to them. It’s the same mix that made our lovely friend blind.”

 

“Deucalion?” Derek blinks.

 

“Who is Deucalion?” Stiles asks.

 

“The leader of the Alpha pack. Our family dealt with them before when I was younger and Derek still a kid. I’ve told you about my friend in Mexico, he helped us. We could kill two other Alphas and blind him before they decided to leave. They are back now.”

 

“What they want?”

 

Derek opens his mouth to say something but Peter interrupts him. “We don’t know yet.”

 

Something in their faces tells Stiles they _know_ , but they aren’t going to tell him now.

 

“Do you think it’s safe to leave this in his hands?” Derek points at Stiles. “He’s dangerous even to himself.”

 

Stiles huffs and brings the bag to Derek’s face. “This is not a good time to insult me, big bad wolf.”

 

“Really?” Derek doesn’t shrink away, but he looks uncomfortable and gives a side glance to Peter who smirks back. Stiles hides it back into his bag even he’s sure the other are going to be curious about that and they are going to ask for explanation.

 

Derek sniffs the air again. “Why do I smell popcorn?”

 

ˇˇˇˇˇˇ

 

 _“I’m not sure if it’s bad or good news that we didn’t find a new hint of their scent in the last ten days. Maybe they left the town-”_ Stiles hears as Isaac is telling to Scott as they are coming down the hallway.

 

“What about Boyd and Erika?” Stiles interrupts them in the second they enter the room.

 

“We don’t know,” Derek answers for them and brings the attention of them all to his person. “Now, Peter? Say what you brought before they will start panic,” Derek turns their concentration to Peter instead who again explains what they already discussed. There is nothing else to talk about, only Allison’s plans of going to Europe that Derek refuses to listen and turns away and Scott just looks generally sad.

 

“That’s all?” Lydia immediately jumps on her feet when the room falls into silent and she is obviously ready to go.

 

“I’ve brought my laptop; don’t you want to watch something?” Allison suddenly says and reaches for her bag.

 

“But I and Jacksons already have our plans,” Lydia proclaims, pouts her lips and tugs Jackson by his hand up from his seat. Before Stiles can even recognize what has happened, they are gone.

 

“What was that?”

 

“They are bunnies,” Peter smirks.

 

Stiles stares at him. “Again, what was that?”

 

“Jackson’s dad is sending him to London for summer,” Allison explains.

 

“Or longer,” Scott adds.

 

“So, they jump their bones like crazy,” Isaac joins the conversations too. “You can be glad you can’t smell it.”

 

“You said movie, Allison?” Stiles turns at her and she smiles.

 

“Better be good,” Peter sighs loudly.

 

“Nobody is forcing you to stay. You can leave.” Derek turns at Peter, who doesn’t look like he’s coming anywhere, and instead he sits on the sofa that until now occupied Lydia and Jackson and spreads his arms over the back rest. Scott brings Allison back into his embrace on the other side after she turns the laptop on and puts in on the coffee table. Stiles stops fidgeting around the room and falls on his ass right in the centre of them and leans over Allison’s shoulder.

 

“No, no, nope,” he comments as he runs his eyes over her collection. “Wait,” his eyes catch something on the top. “American pie?” He turns at Scott.

 

“American pie!” Scott shouts back and laughs. Stiles raises his hand for a high five.

 

“God no,” Derek groans and Scott grins when he smacks Stiles’ palm.

 

“It’s stupid,” Peter protests too.

 

“And that’s exactly why we are going to watch it. Isaac, there is a room for you, but-” Stiles looks around and then at Derek.

 

“He can bring the bed and sits there with Derek,” Peter helps him and Stiles starts nodding.

 

“That’s not nesse-” Derek protests immediately.

 

“Come on, big wolf, can’t you show us some pack feelings?” He pushes him more. “We want our Alpha with us watching American pieeeee.”

 

Isaac and Derek look both a bit lost, but they obey and bring the bed for them, shoving it against a wall next to the couch and together awkwardly climbing up. Stiles gives Peter a conspiratorial glance and moves back bringing his legs up on the coffee table. After Allison presses the play button, he shifts on his spot and leans more to Peter’s side.

 

The room quickly darkens after sunset. Peter’s arm slides lower, Stiles eventually turns his back more to the man’s chest even it’s not as comfortable and his hand placed on his leg simultaneously touches Peter’s hip. Everything about the evening feels right and he likes the nice shivering in his chest anytime Peter shifts next to him. After they make a short break they decide to watch the second movie too, but in the middle Stiles feels himself falling into a sleep and not watching it anymore. He turns his head from the screen, it’s hurting his sleepy eyes and he rolls over to lay his head on Peter’s chest, not carrying if anyone sees them. The stable beating of the man’s heart under his ear is better than any lullaby he knows.

 

Peter eventually wakes him up by shaking his shoulder after the second movie ends and Stiles is yawing widely while looking around the dark room bathing in a bland orange colour from outside street lighting. Scott with Allison both fell off and Stiles wonders they probably didn’t notice him with Peter. It’s partly a relief. Stiles stands up and stretches his arms above his head, Peter’s arm is around waist when he guides him to the door and he’s holding his bag in the second. Stiles stops walking when they reach the bed to look at Isaac and Derek lying face to face under the sheets, only Isaac raises his head when they pass by them. Stiles waves his hand at him and Isaac nods before putting his head down again.

 

“Well, really a bonding night,” he breaths out in the warm evening night. Peter’s arm on his waist feels comforting and pleasant. He doesn’t like the feel of loss after they apart and Stiles sits in his seat to drive them home. Peter is silent for the whole time and keeps his eyes closed. Stiles watches strips of diversely coloured lights running over his face when he’s driving through the empty city and wonders when this became his life.

 

ˇˇˇˇˇˇ

 

Supermarket down the main road from Stiles’ home is seriously the last place he would think he can spot Peter on late Sunday afternoon. He sees him in the fruit sections and runs over to him.

 

“Whoah, no way!” Stiles shouts laughing and some people turn to look at him.

 

“Stiles, it must to be a surprise, but werewolves don’t survive only on their victims’ blood,” the man calmly replies when studying closely an apple before putting it into a plastic bag.

 

“But why are you shopping so far from the flat?”

 

Peter’s arm stops for a while before he reaches for another. “This is not for Derek.”

 

“But… what a second. Do you live close?”

 

“Define close.”

 

“Fifteen minutes by car?”

 

“Then I live close.”

 

“What? Where?”

 

“I rented an apartment a few weeks ago. Near to the city, near to the woods. Far from Derek,” he explains and Stiles can only stare at him with an open mouth.

 

“I want to see-”

 

“No.”

 

“Don’t you know of reciprocity? You’ve been to my house. And I didn’t even invite you.”

 

Peter glances up at him and shortly smiles. “I’m not going to invite you either. Look at those grapes, aren’t they beautiful?” His smile turns into a smirk as he puts the pack with grapes into his shopping cart and pushes it forward. “Have a nice day, Stiles,” he calls at him over his shoulder.

 

 _I’m not going to invite you either._ If this isn’t an open invitation, Stiles has to be losing his mind. After he quickly whooshes through the aisles to get everything he came for, he pays and goes to sit into his car. About ten minutes later, Peter exits the shop walking slowly to his car with two full bags and Stiles almost jumps from his seat as his nerves are racked to burst out in any moment. Finally Peter starts his car and Stiles can follow him. He can be hundred percent sure the man knows about him, so he doesn’t even try to hide and rides right behind him until they end up in a complex of apartment buildings that are all quite new and until today Stiles didn’t find a time to take a closer look. Stiles watches Peter parks in front of one of the lower of them, gets his bags out of the trunk and disappears inside.

One hour later Stiles is back, showered and in clean clothes (he changed that a few times), and he is nervously tapping the door handle and considering how to finally find his courage and leave the car. His phone chimes with a new text:

 

_‘Going up or not?’_

 

_‘Damn the werewolf’s senses.’_

 

He can’t stop smiling as he enters the building; the main door hasn’t been closed properly and he starts to climb the stairs, checking names on the doors. He’s in the third and last floor when he sees a tag with the name _Hale_ on it. The door opens even he hasn’t knocked yet.

 

“Hello, Stiles, I didn’t expect you,” Peter smirks and opens the door for him. Stiles returns him a grin and goes inside. Right into the lion’s den. But the flat is far from being called a den. It’s not huge, but still a lot of bigger for a single person, with a large living room and couple of doors leading most probably into bathroom and bedroom. The kitchen is behind the corner as Stiles can say from the amazing smell coming from the room. The living room is far different from Derek’s. It has painted walls, a lot of wood, big antics leather sofa; there is no TV, only a laptop on a coffee table. Some books are stocked into an old looking library in the corner of the room. Peter taps his shoulder and he turns his attention back to him, getting nervous as always when he is with him alone. He turns at the man who is barefoot, only in dark trousers and with shirt, looking comfy as the rest of the apartment.

 

“Hungry?” Peter asks and turns around.

 

“Are you making dinner?” Stiles stares at his back, but follows his lead. The kitchen is separated from the living room by a bar that is evidently also used as a dinner table. “God, that smells great,” he mutters as he stares over his shoulder.

 

“Roasted leg of lamb with garlic, rosemary and honey and green beans with butter as a side dish. Sounds good?”

 

“Do you cook like this often?” Stiles asks fascinated as he watches him taking one roasted leg by its bone, turning around to check both sides and then putting on already prepared plate.

 

“I hadn’t a chance for the last couple of years to explore my culinary skills and my memory still has some gaps, but cooking has been one of my passions for years,” he explains as he turns off the oven and quickly cleans the desk from oil drops.

 

“How could you know if I come over?” Stiles moves to sit by the bar and Peter brings the plates.

 

“Your curiosity wouldn’t let you not to come.” The man gives him an egoistic smile as he pours white wine into two glasses and then offers him one. “You don’t have to drink if you don’t feel like it; it’s just for the better taste with the dish.”

 

“I can have one glass,” he accepts it awkwardly and feels his ears burning when their fingers touch. They clings their glasses when Peter sits by his side and then gestures him to start eating. Stiles has never eaten a better home cooked meal and he holds himself from whining as it melts on his tongue. He turns at him to compliment him but he bumps with his knee to Peter’s and stiffens. The man doesn’t move away and Stiles presses more to his leg while taking a sip on his wine.

 

The eat in silence, Stiles can’t stop his eyes from wondering around, the flat isn’t done yet and it’s missing any decorations, but it’s cleaned and he’s sure he’s going to like it. How the bedroom probably looks like? And his bed? His eyes land on Peter again and he quickly looks into his plate when the man turns his head at him.

 

“What are you thinking about? There was a very strong change in your scent, but I can’t say it was bad.”

 

“I’m-” he swallows another bite. “I like the place. It suits you.”

 

“I don’t plan on moving anywhere for a while. I have finally a chance to make you eat like a cultivated person.”

 

“Admit you had fun in the car.”

 

“It was messy. I have a better image of messy fun. Bringing food to the bed suddenly sounds differently, don’t you think?”

 

Stiles chokes on his wine. “You did this purposely,” he hisses and wipes his mouth with a tissues. “Are you planning on moving into the bedroom?”

 

Peter smiles. “No,” he puts his fork down. “At first, I don’t have a bedroom yet,” he says and brings his hand up to stroke Stiles’ hair. “And for the second, I would miss this.”

 

“Miss what?” Stiles mutters and his heart beats strongly against his ribs.

 

Peter locks their eyes and his hand slides over Stiles’ face. “The beauty of persuading you.”

**  
**


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You don't even know how pleased I was from your comments after the last chapter. Thanks for dropping by.
> 
> We are moving on, guys. I'm sorry for messing with Stiles's dad, but he's going to be fine, I swear. If you are feeling things are getting fluffy between them, don't worry, this is not a fluff fic. I'm only being gentle to them. Just look in last episode at that bastard how he is lying on the sofa while Stiles nervously pacing around the room, wouldn't you cuddle him?
> 
> New chapter will come up over the weekend. (Hannibal finale is going to kill me.)
> 
> FYI, I'm writing away, currently on chapters 6-7, writing all those confrontations are doubting my moral, too. (This might hurt)

It’s the day, two weeks and three knees weakening dinners later, when Stiles barely gets home from school when his phone rings and he knows the number, it’s from the hospital. An armoured robbery in a local bank caused his dad is currently lying on an operation table and doctors are removing a bullet from his left arm. Stiles is back in the car before he even finishes the call. Scott’s mum is awaiting him in front of the building and takes him by his arm without asking and leads into a waiting room where she sits him down and tells him to wait before the operation will end and that his dad is going to be okay, because it’s a minor injury.

 

After they allow him to visit his dad’s room, the man is still sleeping and Stiles takes a seat by his side while looking at his pale face.

 

He doesn’t remember falling asleep before somebody clamps his mouth following with pressing down on his shoulder when he jumps on his seat and stares up into Peter’s eyes. The room is dark and he looks around. His dad is still sleeping and looking calm. Peter releases his mouth and gives him a small paper and uses a light from his phone. It’s from Scott’s mum, saying that his dad woke up for once but fell asleep again and that Stiles should go home for the night.

 

“How did you get in?” He asks quietly and watches if his dad isn’t waking up. Peter rolls his eyes on him. Stiles blames it for the sleepiness before he remembers Peter’s spent here _years_ and kept sneaking in and out for months.

 

“I’ll take you home.”

 

“No, I got here by my car,” he replies and stands up.

 

“And I got here on my foot.” Peter laconically responds, suddenly he runs away and Stiles is left alone when the door opens and a nurse comes in.

 

“Is he awake?” She asks and turns on a lamp by the door. Stiles blinks a few times and shakes his head. “I thought I’ve heard some talking.”

 

“Yeah,” Stiles scratches his neck, “I was talking to him,” he says nervously and points to the bed, but shortly flicks his eyes at a bathroom door.

 

“Uh, okay,” she says and stays still.

 

“I think I’ll go home and come back in the morning?” On the end Stiles puts in a question, because he is not sure what to do and if can stay or go home.

 

“Yeah, he should be awake by then. He probably would stay one or two days in here, because he hit his head, too.”

 

Stiles nods slowly and shuffles to the door. He is still confused from the whole situation.

 

“Don’t you,” the nurse is talking to him again. “Don’t you want to buy a cup of coffee before you will go? You don’t look vigilant enough for driving now.” Stiles wants to laugh at the choice of her words, but just shakes his head and continues on his way out.

 

Finding Peter leaning against the driver’s door isn’t surprising at all.

 

“Your keys,” he pulls out an arm, but Stiles smacks it away.

 

“Oh, sure. I remember very well the last time.”

 

“Stiles,” Peter growls his name and reaches for the keys again and he lets him take them before moving to the passenger’s door with a loud sigh.

 

“Dude, you own me a foot rub for giving you my trust with my baby.” He notices as Peter gives him a side look before starting the engine and swiftly leaving the empty parking lot.

 

The road home is quiet; he is leaning against the window with his forehead, blowing hot air on it and making circles with his finger over the fogged glass. Stiles gets fully awake when Peter parks in the drive way and wordlessly gets out of the car.

 

“Are you going to use the front door or would you prefer your favourite path?” Stiles bites down on his lip while getting out too and looks at Peter who is standing on the other side of the car.

 

“I wasn’t planning on coming in at all,” Peter answers and goes around the car to stand right in front of him when he closes the door and turns around. Stiles feels the cold metal getting to him through his hoo      die when he steps back. “Aren’t you sleepy?”

 

“I’ve slept for hours, not tired at all. Just worry about my dad. I won’t fall asleep again now.” Peter’s body heat is right there and pressing him into the car even he’s not touching him at all.

 

“You aren’t even making whole sentences. That is supposed to convince me you’re okay?”

 

“Maybe I need some distraction? I still have to think that if the bullet ended just a few inches to the right, it could be his heart and-”

 

Peter’s arm appears on the car roof next to his head. He’s watching Stiles with a bemused smirk and then blows a hot air against his mouth. Stiles allows himself to chuckle and leans his head back against the roof staring up at the night sky.

 

“The full moon is coming,” he mutters as Peter’s breathe tickles over his neck. “I always loved the night sky, you know? All the stars, I’ve spent so many nights just lying on the ground staring up and-”

 

His monologue is interrupted with a touch of teeth on his jaw. It reminds him the wolf inside of the man. And he has just bared his throat to him in an invitation. He moves his head down, but fingers in his hair immediately tug him back. He shouldn’t to let them grow that much. 

 

“You are very alluring tonight,” Peter hums against his jaw and Stiles feels his stubble brushing against his neck. His body feels awfully manly against Stiles’ tiny figure and he starts shivering uncontrollable. “If you can even guess what your fear does to me.”

 

“No, no, no. Don’t hurt me. Please,” Stiles whispers and puts his hands on Peter’s chest, pushing him back at bit.

 

“Shh, I wouldn’t do that.” With Peter’s teeth this close to his skin, Stiles can barely talk as his throat is clenched. He’s learnt Peter’s words have their value and his assurance isn’t anything the man wouldn’t say if he didn’t mean it.

 

“But then the question is what you _would_ do to me.”

 

“Hmm,” Peter murmurs and Stiles can feel it against his skin. “I would like to give you a proposal.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“You are going to spend a few hours every week in my bed. I finally bought a new one.”

 

“What? From a touch here or there you what to jump right-”

 

“No, it doesn’t have to include me in, too,” Peter lips just barely brushes against his skin before he loosens his hair and Stiles can fix his eyes with him.

 

“Is it a werewolf thing again?” Stiles sighs.

 

“Yes,” Peter isn’t hiding an amused sneer.

 

“Why did you take my shirt the other day anyway?”

 

“Smart boy,” Peter appreciates him and points his finger into the air. “Let’s say Derek pissed me off and I wanted to him to be upset from smelling you on me. It’s not as effective as it’s a permanent state now.”

 

“What, you were wearing it?” Stiles gapes at him.

 

“No, not wearing. I wouldn’t fit into your size.”

 

Stiles chuckles. “Yeah, Derek said the same.”

 

“Derek wore your clothes?”

 

“Uhm, yeah. He was staying at my place and had to borrow mine because his was all bloody and dirty. You know, werewo-”

 

“Why was he staying at your place?” Peter’s hand moves on his neck once again and his thumb presses on his main vein. Stiles gulps and the pressure makes his heart beating faster.

 

“He was hiding from the police because they thought he killed his sister. Sounds familiar?” Stiles’ hand is shaking when he grips on Peter’s wrist and tugs the arm down. Stiles is amazed, after all he is getting _jealous_? “But he has never stayed over the night, as he was looking for the murderer.”

 

They are measuring each other with their eyes until Peter finally nods and Stiles lets go on his arm and instead hooks his fingers on the pocket of the man’s leather jacket. 

 

“He has this thing for you, you know? To protect you even you are not his beta, but he never says anything to you.”

 

“And you want me to roll over your sheets to piss him off? I thought this was a secret thing.”

 

“Nothing between wolfs is a secret. And until I’m not bending you over the jeep with pants down your knees, he doesn’t say anything. He has this opinion that fucking an underage is wrong.”

 

Stiles wants to hysterically laugh off his words, but knowing that it’s Derek, the alpha, that’s holding Peter back from- from doing things to him, inappropriate things, which he probably wants to do… if Stiles understands his intentions well from the touching and his lately closeness. But Derek fighting for his innocence? How ridicules that sounds.

 

“I think, after how Kate manipulated him when he was one too, you can’t be that surprised.”

 

“Am I manipulating you?” Peter now places his open palm on Stiles’ neck gently and brushes his thumb over his jaw. It feels extraordinary warm to Stiles who has never been this intimate with anybody and Peter’s minty breath is tickling on his lips when he leans to him.

 

“Hell, yeah.”

 

The mood between then quickly jumps on a different level and Stiles knows they are not going to talk about Derek again.

He relaxes his body against the jeep and opens his legs to give Peter a bigger space to lean in. They are so close from a real kiss he finds himself taking courage to initiate it on his own. His fingers tug on Peter’s shirt and he’s jittering nervously on his trembling legs.

 

“Do you think you know what are you doing?”

 

“Are you asking me if I know that this crap we’re doing is pretty much illegal? I do understand that term, what are the motives for you, what is attracting me, the promise; and my lack of an experience.”

 

“What would the sheriff say seeing you like this?”

 

“What would your fiancée say seeing you seducing a kid like me?” Stiles replies and he sees Peter’s eyes narrowing when he pulls back. It was a low blow move from him, he knows, but mentioning Stiles’ dad while his thigh is sliding between his legs wasn’t his best choice either.

 

“A kid you say? Somebody could consider your response as justified enough, but not me. Your mind doesn’t work as a normal kid’s one does. You are not naïve as Isaac, or confused as Scott.”

 

“But I really am, mostly. However, I can’t afford to be reckless in your company.”

 

Peter’s teeth shine in the street light when he gives him a toothy grin. “Hmm, I haven’t met a person as entertaining as you are in a while.”

 

“Good, at least I know what keeps you to hang along. _Entertainment_.”

 

Peter hums and his body presses more against Stiles. “I think you can find more than this one reason. You are the clever one.”

 

“If I were clever, I would keep myself damn away from you.”

 

“What about staying smart with me around?”

 

“Troublesome, but manageable?”

 

“Speaking of troubles, I think I’m going to leave you now.” Stiles leans into the palm caressing his neck and slides his arms over Peter’s back to hug him loosely.

 

“Just one more moment.” He’s considering if it would be okay to place his head on his shoulder, but then he just shrugs and does it anyway. He doesn’t know what this exactly means in the werewolf’s world when he brushes his lips over Peter’s neck, but the man stiffens and then his body shoves against him with a new force and presses him against the Jeep.

 

“Uh,” Stiles huffs and smiles against his neck. He experimentally licks the salty skin and receives a throaty moan from the man that assures him he’s doing it right. Peter is pulling back and he whimpers at the lost when he tugs Stiles away by his hair, his arms are now firmly wrapped around Peter’s waist keeping him from backing out.

 

“Stiles,” he groans when he bucks his hips against Peter; playing with the werewolf won’t be that hard after all.

 

“Yes?” He leans his head closer again and flatters with his eyelids. It has an opposite effect; Peter is raising his chin and looking to be back in his collected form again.

 

“Go home and get some rest. Tomorrow you will visit your dad and spend a few hours with him and then you’ll arrive at Derek’s apartment where you will spend the day with us. Derek and Isaac should be there. Your dad is going to be in the hospital for two more days.”

 

Peter is back to his normal self-possessed voice and tightly grips Stiles’ arms moving them away. He releases a whimper, but leaves his arms by his sides when Peter steps back.

 

“Whole day? I don’t want to make Derek much upset. Fragile human, you know?”

 

“Leave Derek to me and do as I tell.”

 

“Hey!” He shouts into the empty street as he’s suddenly left alone, his body shivers with the cold. _Rude_ he mutters under his breath and has to lean his head against the car again to collect himself before pushing off. He finds his keys still in the engine lock and slowly goes into the empty house.

 

ˇˇˇˇˇˇ

 

Seeing his dad so weak and helpless is hurting him and they talk a bit, the older man is telling him when their action went down and how he got shot. Stiles spends watching a football match with him on the small hospital TV for about an hour before the painkillers brings his dad back into a calm sleep and Stiles gives him a last glance before quietly sneaking out. He tells Scott’s mum he will come back tomorrow after school and that should be a time they will release him. She asks him if he wants to come over for dinner and he denies and struggles with his words for a while before she lets him go with a worry expression.

 

Peter is sprawled over a sidewalk in front of the building and exposing his face to the sun. He doesn’t bother to open his eyes when Stiles parks along the street and heavily sits next to him.

 

“Be careful not to burn your face. Again,” he doesn’t hold back the bitterness from visiting his dad and Peter slowly smirks before opening his eyes.

 

“I’m glad you are in a good mood.”

 

Stiles finds a little stone that he throws at him and Peter’s lips only twist more. They are sitting in a silence for a while looking around and enjoying the late spring sunny day.

 

“Is there any food? I didn’t have lunch.” He looks at Peter eventually.

 

“I’m too comfortable to serve you.”

 

“God, I asked if you had any food. Not to bring me a bunny on a silver plate,” Stiles groans and stumbles up on his feet before coming inside. The loft is dark and pleasurable cold and empty when he goes to check out the fridge. There are plenty of boxes with different kinds of leftovers and some pieces of vegetables and fruits stuck in the lower shelves.

 

“I would recommend you take out the box on the upper right.” Stiles wishes not to jump when he hears Peter behind his back. He never notices him even it seems impossible not to hear his boots on the wooden floor. An arm sneaks along his side and fishes out an apple. Stiles is already looking into the _upper right_ box. It’s one portion of lasagnes and he realises how hungry he is. He moves to the microwave ignoring the man completely, but puts the meal on a plate before warming it up.

 

There is a finger on the top of his neck, hopefully a human nail that slowly copies the line of his spine before the machine will cling. He knows Peter’s head is right behind his and he hears him every time he takes a huge bite.

 

“You can’t even eat an apple without making it sound like a freaking murder?” He shakes him off his back.

 

“Stiles.” Peter sounds sulky. “I know you are upset of your dad being in a hospital, but it’s not your fault, so stop bothering about it.”

 

“Like stop bothering you about it. Can you lay off my back for a while? Anywhere I move, you are there. I would tip you to be more of an asocial kind.”

 

Peter lets him push himself off the kitchen unit, but follows him into the _living room_ on a sofa. “It’s not my choice; my wolf likes having you around.”

 

“Oh, yeah? What bullshit is that? Are you talking with your wolf during the cold nights? Gossiping? It’s all you who is doing it.”

 

Peter shakes his head again. “It’s like an instinct. I don’t even notice my hands are moving until I hear your heart rising up the beat.”

 

“Creepy.” He sticks his tongue at him and continues in eating. It’s weird that all his reactions he feels on his own, somebody can sense too. He’s thinking if he can control it anyhow, but what he can only do is breathing regularly, keeping his expression blank and holding his hands firmly from shaking.

 

The warm food in his stomach is soothing his bruised soul and in the end he brushes his foot along Peter’s legs. The man grips his ankles and firmly moves Stiles’ legs into his lap. His expression doesn’t change, like this is normal, this is something they do all the times. Peter leans his head back and closes his eyes. Stiles rolls his legs over his thighs and the grip on his ankle tightens.

 

“Why does your wolf like me?”

 

Peter hums and turns his face into Stiles’ direction. “You’re responsive.”

 

“Responsive how?”

 

“You have been sending a mix of signals for a while that are… prepossessing.”

 

“Seriously?” He makes a funny face. “Have you ever heard of flirting?” He grins at Peter and feels his cheeks burning as he rubs his legs again.

 

“I would rather call it courting.”

 

“Courting? Which century are you living in?”

 

“There are things called traditions.”

 

“Where is my bunny on a silver plate then?”

 

“Upstairs,” Peter answers simply and looks at him again.

 

“Okay, I’m actually pretty really tired and-and… This couch doesn’t look good; didn’t you say you wanted me to roll over your sheets?”

 

“Do you want to lie down? There is a spare bed upstairs Isaac brought for him.” Peter asks and slides his hand over Stiles’ legs.

 

“Yeah, I guess. It’s more comfortable, right?”

 

Peter doesn’t answer, only raises his eyebrows. Stiles stands up on his feet and goes back into the kitchen to quickly wash the plate and for a case his chin too. As there isn’t any mirror he can use.

 

Peter is awaiting him at the bottom of the spiral stairs, Stiles goes up ahead but stops on the top of the stairs to turn around and look down at him with his arms leaning on the banisters and blocking the way. Peter isn’t masking his amusement as he continues going up and puts his hands on Stile’s hips lifting him effortlessly of the ground. He leaves him no option than to wrap his legs around his waist and puts arms over his shoulder. The man manoeuvres them with his face pressed to Stiles’ shoulder into an open room that doesn’t contain anything but a tall wardrobe and a huge bed with blank sheets and a soft duvet. Peter doesn’t unceremoniously throw him on it as Stiles expects, but puts him back on his feet. Stiles turns to a window leading into a backyard and stares out at the ugly gray buildings all around. He doesn’t like this part of city.

 

Stiles turns back at the man who is observing him closely with his head tilted to the side and taking deep breaths through his nose. He’s still not fully used to all the werewolves’ habits and he would like at least once try it by himself what it is like. Peter takes his hand lifting it to his face and sniffs the inside of his wrist. Stiles blushes deeply at the odd gesture and he remembers the last time they were standing like this. He wants to pull his arm back, but instead he is tugged to the bed. Even it’s about two months since Peter started sneaking into his room to ‘hang out’ they’ve never been together on a bed.

 

Because the bed itself is making it serious as shit.

 

He’s lying on his side and kicking his shoes off his feet. Peter is hovering above him propped on his palm and watching him while his fingers are wandering over his face. He meets his eyes for a long moment, the longest in their brief history and he feels a relief when he doesn’t see the catatonic stare that scares him, but a focused pair of lively blue eyes. The man’s face is peaceful and incredibly handsome in the bright light that makes his chest to tighten and his knees jiggle with impatience. He bits on his lower lip and Peter’s glance immediately moves on it, his own mouth curving into a small smile that looks to be genuine.

 

Stiles lifts his hand without taking his eyes from Peter’s face and hooks one finger on the collar of the man’s shirt. It’s different from the last night when he was almost sure he was going to get his first kiss, and he misses the darkness a bit now. It’s all real, who they are, displayed in the daylight, but in this moment, he doesn’t feel a thrill of fear of the man and that is probably the reason why Peter finally lowers his head enough to let their lips touch.

 

They are dry and hot when pressed to his. They both are moving, slowly closing the space between them and bringing themselves chest to chest. It feels as Peter is pulling back and Stiles panics he’s changed his mind and his hand buries into the man’s hair holding him there. Peter’s thumb is caressing Stiles’ cheek as he licks his way into Stiles partly opened mouth when he moans from the surprise. He responds back and meets the tip with his, blushing from his inexperience and trying to coordinate his movements with Peter’s.

 

It’s his first kiss and he feels so splendidly excited he can’t wait to get more. He actually whines when Peter pulls back for real and lays his head next to Stiles’. But the boy disagrees on ending it before he even starts getting on the rhythm and moves his head forward to find Peter’s mouth again. He’s opening his mouth and catching those lips between his, sucking on them and slightly using his teeth, making the other man to laugh silly. Peter’s hand is cupping his face when he uses his other hand and firmly grips on Stiles’ hip before he pushes his tongue into his mouth and Stiles tugs on his hair harder. His hand is scratching his neck, attempting to give Peter the same chilling as he feels rolling down his back.

 

Stiles is taking in deep breathes when they apart and feels a bit foggy as he is opening his eyes at Peter. He closes them a while later and he feels a short kiss, merely a peck on the corner of his mouth before the man is setting down by his side. Stiles slips lower and throwing his arm over his chest, he snuggles his face to his side. He’s not thinking if it’s right thing to do. Now, he’s just a person whose body is firm and warm against his and he buries his face deeper.

 

But he can’t hold himself down for long as his body vibrates with a want. He lifts himself again to look at Peter’s composed face with closed eyes. It’s a form of showing he trusts Stiles enough to lose his defence around him. He places a palm on Peter’s chest and feels the muscles under it. How he has managed to keep his body in such an amazing shape while years in comma is a mystery, it has to be a werewolf thing again, and very unfair. Peter’s shirt is crumpled and shoving a bit of his abdomen, mostly a path of dark hair running down to… _ugh._ Stiles’ eyes are roaming lower and he has a sudden idea to copy the path with his hand and he slides his palm over Peter’s chest, but then his eyes catch on something odd. On his right hip is a long scar that continues up under the shirt. He tugs on it and doesn’t hold back a gasp when he sees the extent of the man’s injuries over his side. Peter catches his wrist from moving more up and stares at him with a glooming pair of eyes changed into brighter blue colour than is his normal.

 

Stiles saw his scarred face in the hospital before, but he’s been pretending it as a camouflage.

 

“Why do you still have them?” He asks and tries to take a look again.

 

“A reminder of the world I live in.”

 

“It was Kate who- Not everybody is that evil.”

 

“People hurt you when you expect it the least. We all knew he’s been seeing with her, with a hunter. But those are not from the fire.”

 

Uh. Then it’s from his _return_ after the Molotov cocktail flame _that Stiles threw on him, too_.

 

“May I?” He tugs on the hem again and Peter sighs, but takes his shirt off. He brings his arm to stroke it over Stiles’ back and lies back down. Stiles waits until he closes his eyes again before moving his hand over his injured skin. It doesn’t look ugly actually. Stiles copies the individual scars with his finger.

 

“I can erase them if you want, I did it with most of them,” he says and the one under Stiles’ finger disappears.

 

“No! No, I don’t mind them,” he assures him. “Little bit of sentimentality suits to anybody. And I like it. You know there are tribes in Africa and other places that esteem scarification as a process of decorating and beautifying the body.”

 

Peter frowns but doesn’t continue on healing his skin. It’s odd how quickly he offered to get rid of them. Because, how could an attractive man as him get anxious about his appearance? God, he wants to lick them, because the more he’s glazing over them, the more excited he gets. And then he thinks _why not?_ and lowers down to press his mouth on one right under his shoulder. Peter’s hand on his back stops moving and then runs to pull him back by his neck. He drags him and rolls them over. Stiles is suddenly lying on his back with Peter’s mouth pressed to his throat and he gasps as his teeth brush his skin.

 

“Okay, okay, buddy,” he tries to smooth him with his right hand tapping on his back. “We are grumpy about them.” He gets back a low growl; Peter catches his wrists and places them above his head. Stiles’ considering if he’s going to get a panic attack when he is pressed to the mattress, but Peter’s warm body is too hot and disturbing that he focuses more on him. While Peter fixes their eyes, his lips are shaking with a growl. Stiles carefully withdraws his legs from under him and loosely holds them by his sides and his arms aren’t trying to escape from the man’s hold anymore.

 

“Hey, wolfie, look at me, this is Stiles, helpless human,” he’s muttering and Peter slowly blinks. His eyes get back to his normal colour. “And you’re obviously not in for surprises.”

 

Peter raises his right hand and lets grown his claws, then runs his index finger over Stiles’ face and neck until he reaches his shirt and in three cuts he rips it open.

 

“Oh my god,” Stiles’ breath gets a frenetic speed. “I got the point. And I liked this-”

 

His mouth is clamped by a palm and he whines. Peter only rolls his eyes and starts to tear the rest off his shoulders. Stiles tries to help by lifting his arms, but the man is very effective on his goal and moves back to kneel between Stiles’ legs watching him as he throws the rest of the shirt on a floor.

 

“Much better,” he opens his mouth after a torturing couple of seconds when Stiles’ been looking at him in disbelief. “You should wear something that would appreciate those fine lines more.” His both hands are sliding by Stiles’ sides and gripping him around his thin waist. “I’m not saying I wouldn’t prefer it in the natural appearance like this. But Derek and Isaac could be here soon and they would probably disagree.”

 

“I don’t have a spare shirt here and I better don’t ask what happened to the one you took from me.”

 

“I’ll let you borrow one of mine if you ask nicely.”

 

_That impossible possessive demanding bastard…_

 

“My dear, would be so kind?” He’s biting on his tongue as he’s fighting with the want to punch him. Or kiss him. He could go with that, too. And they go, with the kissing, fortunately. Peter is no longer gentle with him and roughly attacks his mouth, his hand is pressed on Stiles’ neck and suppressing an air from his lungs when he’s showing his supremacy and Stiles lets him to have it. Not because it is pragmatic to keep upset werewolves on his side, but giving out the power is addicting.

 

His body isn’t at that one with him and struggles with the lack of oxygen. Peter releases him and he desperately gasps for an air staring up at him, the hand is still on his neck. Peter’s eyes are cold and Stiles doesn’t dare to wonder what is going through his mind. Instead he decides to apply his own weapons and in one moment he hooks his legs along the man’s waist, one hand around his neck and the other places on his face. Peter doesn’t yield easily, that’s for sure, but Stiles applies more pressure and inch by inch he’s tugging him lower until he can lift his head enough to press a kiss on the man’s throat.

 

It has the affect he’s been hoping for and he opens his mouth widely to suck on the sweaty skin and maybe his soft lips will get bruised later from his stubble, but now he can barely care. Peter whines, he actually _whines_ above him and his hand buries into Stiles’ hair. The other appears under his right knee when he’s opening Stiles’ legs more and rubbing their bodies against each other. Until then there was a microscopic gap between them, but Peter actually rolling his groin over his is reminding him how hard he is.

 

Stiles shoves his hips up, jovially as it can be understood as the basic movements between two bodies and he feverishly mouths on the man’s neck going up to nibble his earlobe. His legs can’t get spread more even Peter is frantically rubbing his thigh and lifting his leg up, his hand is getting dangerously near Stiles’ erection and he absolutely wouldn’t protest if he would continue further. It’s driving him crazy, the taste under his tongue and the smell. It’s not classic cologne from a drug store, but it’s fresh, a mix of mint and spices, and he feels the primary need to _taste_. But he’s not allowed, his mouth is empty and he lets out a whimper of a protest. He falls down on the blanket again and his arms clench around Peter’s neck. They shortly fix their eyes before he simply titles his head up.

 

“You are…,” Peter’s breath tickles his neck, “I want to mark you.”

 

“That means?” He lowers his eyes to look at him.

 

“Mark you mine, for everybody to see.”

 

“Didn’t you say they could smell it already?”

 

“It’s not the same.”

 

“Hey, but- but, my dad can’t notice or what, you want to be introduced to him? My wolfie pal? I’m going to take care of him because he’s certainly going to spend next week at home and hickeys aren’t exactly-”

 

Peter’s teeth simply sink into his neck and he groans in pain.

 

“Not nice, my wolfie pal,” he snorts and struggles under him.

 

“I’ll buy you a scarf. We’re going shopping anyway,” Peter mutters and his tongue licks the bruised skin.

 

“Are we?”

 

Peter pulls back to give him his _‘stop questioning everything I do’_ look.

 

“Tomorrow morning. More gifts to come,” he smiles and Stiles rolls his eyes.

 

“Seriously? Fine, I don’t mind spoiling. But I hate shopping.”

 

“You’ve never been sneaking into changing room together with me. I’ll make it worth your time.”

 

“That’s… actually a tempting invitation. Who are you and where did you bury six feet under the other guy?”

 

“That’s a secret,” Peter says softly and his lips are on Stiles’ again. They continue to explore this until now undiscovered ground until they hear a sharp squeak of metal as the door is tagged open. Stiles panics. Derek’s home.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, sweethearts. I know I promised this earlier, but as I thought, the story is going to be longer than I assumed. Except a chapter per week since now:)
> 
> BUT! Big announce, I have a beta-reader now, lovely The Phan Ghost from FF. Thank you, honey.
> 
> And as always, thank you for you feedback. It keeps me in the mood for writing:)
> 
> Here is a bit of your awaited Derek's reaction which is probably less harsh than you were expecting (hoping, wanted:))

“This is not a keeping an eye on him,” Derek says angrily and points his finger into Peter’s face. Stiles is standing behind Peter with arms crossed defensively over his naked chest, barefoot and red in the face from embarrassment.

 

“Generally speaking, dear nephew, I’m banned from bending him over the couch and taking him up the ass,” Peter says calmly as he makes a nonchalant gesture towards Derek’s sofa while Stiles gasps **,** his arms flying into the air. “But you didn't take into account he could ever want to do it happily by himself.”

 

“Just because he’s some horny teenager, that doesn’t mean you can take advantage of that!”

 

Stiles’ weak _hey_ is drowned out by Derek’s yelling.

 

“Derek, can you hear my heartbeat? Can you tell if I’m lying?” Peter slowly and clearly articulates every syllable as he comes closer to him as Derek avoids his eyes. “Then listen closely when I say, I’m not taking advantage of Stiles with the purpose of hurting him or anybody else.” Peter finishes with his eyes glued to Derek’s face as he patiently waits until he glances up at him.

 

Derek shakes his head and releases his folded arms. “I don’t know how you think this will help you achieve anything. Do whatever the hell you want;” he says bitterly, “but will be bearing all the repercussions to your actions on your own.”

 

“What problems?” Stiles finally steps into the conversation and both of the men turn to him.

 

“Really? You can’t think of anything wrong about this? When was the last time you checked your I.D.? Do you think it’s normal to hook up with some psycho almost as old as your father? And what about the sheriff, I’m sure he’s going to be thrilled to hear about this.”

 

“Derek Hale, the world’s biggest moral patron. So, you didn’t bite four under-aged kids and turn them into young inexperienced werewolves? Thanks to your encouraging leading, we currently don’t even know where two of them are and if they are still alive. Not even mentioning a Kanima that was terrorizing the city for weeks.” Peter is mocking him and his voice is harsh. “Did you think for a second about who to bring to your pack?”

 

Stiles doesn’t even think when he steps forward and puts his hand on Peter’s shoulder. The change is immediate, Peter’s body relaxes under his touch as he turns to him and his angry expression bleeds away.

 

“What do you think about going outside? It’s sunny and warm,” Stiles asks him carefully and glances at Derek who watches them intently. “If that’s fine?”

 

Derek hesitates with his answer. “Whatever,” he finally utters and sits on the sofa while rubbing his forehead. Peter is looking at Stiles with narrowed eyes, but he nods and without saying anything he goes upstairs and moments later he’s coming back dressed again and with a shirt and shoes for Stiles in his hand.

 

“It’s a pity we can’t go running together. It would help break the mood.” Peter says and gives him a half smile as Stiles pulls the shirt over his head.

 

“I can give you a collar and throw you a stick if you want to.”

 

Peter’s side-look is supposed to be warning, but he ends up smirking.

 

“What about a little trip?”

 

ˇˇˇˇˇˇ

 

Stiles didn’t think that by going on a trip, they would end up by a huge lake he hadn’t visited since he was thirteen.

 

He feels a bit weird in Peter’s shirt and takes it off again as he drops his ass on a small wooden pier, rolls up his pants and takes off his shoes to put his feet into the water. Peter is standing above him, he hears him kick off his shoes too, but then takes his shirt off, and Stiles feels his cheeks heating up when he hears him unbuckling his belt and tugging his pants down. Peter,now naked **,** then takes a few quick steps back and takes a running leap into the water, head first, splashing drops onto Stiles. He stays under the water for almost three minutes, showing off and swimming around Stiles in half circles, before he goes back and finally comes up to the surface, panting heavily and grinning from the rush of endorphins.

 

“Don’t you want to join me?” He gives him another smile and grips Stiles’ ankles to hold himself floating on the spot.

 

“I don’t want to freeze to death. Haven't you seen Titanic?”

 

“I’ll keep you warm.” Peter’s lips curve up. But it’s still only a beginning of June and the idea of jumping in isn’t very tempting for Stiles.

 

“Rain check?”

 

“Hmm,” Peter mutters and pushes off again. He’s swimming with his head up around the lake this time and Stiles can enjoy watching him.

 

After he has enough he falls down on his back and closes his eyes. A couple of minutes later, Peter climbs up next to him. A few cold drops fall on his face and he gives out a shriek and turns at the man to comply, but he doesn’t even remember how to breathe after he sees him unashamedly sprawled on his back next to him.

 

Stiles takes his time to eye him from head to toes and then back to his face. Peter quirks up one eyebrow and Stiles leans down to shortly kiss him. Peter hums back in his throat and puts his hand around Stiles’ neck to bring him closer for another kiss before letting go and lowering himself down.

 

Peter can’t look more proud of himself than in that moment and stretches his arms far above his head while smirking egoistically. Stiles rolls his eyes at him, takes his frozen feet from the water and lays on his stomach with his forehead on his folded arms. Peter has enough decency to put his boxers back on and then reaches his hand to slowly scratch Stiles over his back. He almost starts to purr under his touch and gives out a few moans when his nails run across a particularly pleasant spot. He could definitely get used to this.

 

ˇˇˇˇˇˇ

 

About half an hour later Stiles opens his eyes. “What are you plans? You've had your revenge, got killed, had a resurrection, rented an apartment… what’s the next step?” Peter turns on his side and reaches up to stroke Stiles' hair.

 

“I want the big family back; even if it won’t be family through blood, but a pack.”

 

“You don’t have to answer, but where did you get all that money? Was your family that rich?”

 

Peter sighs. “Heritage, sure, but mostly health and life insurances from those who died. This can sound ridiculous if you think aboutit, our medical expenses were always minimal. But this is a small town, you need to look normal. After the fire, we were three. Laura bought the car, studied and lived in New York; Derek partly too, but travelled also and my part covered most of the expense for my hospital care. Unfortunately, I have difficulties with authorities now; it is confusing when you are in a coma, not in a coma; dead, alive. The clerks aren’t nice people. I even have to repeat the tests for my driving license. Idiots.”

 

“Seriously? But you have been driving.”

 

Peter smiles and points to his ears. “The best radar in town. I can hear sirens, their radio chatter or _Sir, your driving license, please_ yards ahead than others _._ NowI can either continue like this or live as anoutlaw for the rest of my life. I’m lucky that Melissa knows about us or I would have to undergo all the stupid medical tests.”

 

“Oh my god!” Stiles springs up. “You went on a date with her, with Scott’s mum. God, this is so wrong.” He smacks his forehead.

 

“Calm down. I just wanted to push Scott a bit. We didn’t even kiss goodbye. Somebody hit our car, remember?”

 

“You went down the crazy path; you couldn’t expect we would let you hurt her.”

 

Peter turns his head away and stares into the distance. “It wasn’t the real me back then, you know?” He asks quietly after a while.

 

“Trust me, I know more about thatthan anyone else. I also notice you loom over me for a quite different reason now.”

 

At that Peter lifts himself enough to hover above him, he rubs against Stiles’ nose before unchastely nibbling his upper lip and Stiles rolls to lie on his side while he opens his mouth to deepen the kiss. Peter lets him go a moment later and settles right next to him, their knees and arms touching and Peter is looking right into his eyes.

 

“I want you to understand something, Stiles. You are the only one who doesn’t have to be afraid of me. This is a privilege that only few people have.”

 

Stiles eyes go wide and he feels his breath getting stuck in his throat from the tightening in his chest. “Don’t say stuff like that.”

 

“I’m sorry if it scares you, but this is a reality. You are already a part of our world and it’s not a nice place. Werewolves are creatures guided by instinct **.** And that instinct says - kill or be killed. An eye for an eye. If I have to, I will kill again. Derek will  kill. _Scott_ will kill. You need to realise this before you slip lower with me, because this isn’t going to change. You have time to turn around and get away from me.”

 

“What-what time do I have? Until when?”

 

“What do you celebrate in September?”

 

“My birthday,” Stiles answers. “But I’m going to be seventeen, legal age is still eighteen.”

 

“Not in my world. You’ll be ready to make your own decisions. You will have two choices: to join the pack by becoming a werewolf or to be-”

 

“A mate,” Stiles finishes instead of him and lowers his eyes. He sees Peter’s scars on his chest. It’s unavoidable. “Why can’t it stay like this? I mean, no offence, but I’m not ahundred percent sure how this will work out,” he waves his hand between them, “and I won’t bind myself to you just for your smile. Maybe Derek won’t mind if we keep it this way for a little while longer.”

 

“Derek still doesn’t realise how important it is for pack to stay together, he’s talking abouthow you willall leave for universities after your graduation and won’t come back.”

 

“Scott wants to be a vet, preferably in Deaton’s office.”

 

“He has a big advantage for that job. But what about you, Stiles, whatdo you want to do? You are too clever not to study more. You want to go to university, don’t you? Get out of this town.”

 

“I don’t know. Probably, yeah, I want to study at university. I still have enough time to pick, but there aremore subjects I want to try out.”

 

“What’s tempting you the most?” Peter changes his voice on the word _tempting_ and Stiles glances at him through his eyelashes. Stiles takes this as an opportunity to change the subject and like a cat he slowly props himself up on his elbows, he feels his lips twitching while resisting a smile.

 

“Biology, human anatomy,” he mutters as his eyes are running over Peter’s naked body. “Physical activities and bestiality.” He keeps his voice a bit provocative. “Or maybe I can try dog training to better tame the beast.”

 

Peter throws his head back as he laughs that his chest moves up and down rapidly and he coughs, but keeps on laughing. His smile is gorgeous because he isn’t trying to suppress it as Stiles caught him off guard and Stiles feels his body react to him again. He drags him by his neck and brings himcloser, Peter’s mouth is still curled into a grin when they kiss. Soon he moves harder against Stiles and rolls over to get above him, pressing their naked chests together.

 

“Hmm, you’ll be an excellent student, you are quite a fast learner,” he murmurs and his hands slide over Stiles’ hips, holding him down while he climbs to kneel above him. Stiles rises himself up. “Tut-tut,” Peter disapproves and presses him down again with his palm. “You have to be patient.”

 

“Why?” Stiles whines when Peter grips his wrists and pins his arms above his head. “It feels good.”

 

“I would appreciate it if you listened to me. And would also reward it. Would you like that?” He provokes him with his hand sliding over Stiles’ chest.

 

“Yeah, I-anything. Can’t I have a reward now?”

 

Peter’s hand is going lower. _Is a hand job banned too?_ Stiles mind accelerates and he sucks in a breath while staring down.

 

“Then it won’t be a reward.”

 

“What do you want then?”

 

“I want to make ‘Derek crazy,” he says with a sneer before sinking his teeth into Stiles’ neck. Stiles cries out and struggles, it hurts and Peter sucks strongly on the skin before releasing it from his teeth and bites him on the other side.

 

“Oh my god,” he pants and hisses when Peter goes lower. “One bite would be totally enough, you weirdo. Come up here and I’ll give you one, too. It actually hurts, you know?”

 

“Mine would heal immediately.”

 

“But you can stop the healing process, right?” Stiles says with a hint of agrin and Peter glances up. “Come on, wolfie,” Stiles wiggles his eyebrows at him. Peter’s eyes are a different colour, strictly apparent in the sunny afternoon when he lifts himself up again. Stiles slowly releases his right arm from Peter’s hold and brings it to the man’s hair, staring into his eyes. Inch by inch Peter lowers down until they are cheek to cheek and Stiles gives him an open-mouth kiss on his neck.

 

He holds him tight around the back of his neck while taking mouthful of the sweaty manly taste, Peter shudders above him when he experimentally lets his teeth brush there before biting him. He likes how the man whines, it gives him a touch of an unknown powerful feeling and he definitely enjoys that. When he pulls back and checks the mark he has just left, he smiles satisfied and gives him another short peck before Peter pulls back enough to look at him again.

 

Peter freezes for a second and Stiles’ heart rate quickens with a sudden fear he’s done something wrong. Stiles fidgets under him, but stops when Peter settles his hips lower and their crotches meet. The fact that Peter isn’t wearing anything but his boxers suddenly becomes very disturbing and Stiles feels himself trapped in his thick jeans. He slides his hand over the man’s back, heated from the sun and stops at his hip, his fingers hazardously fidgeting on the edge of his underwear. Stiles’ legs fall down completely spread out and he accepts the man’s weight crushing down on him. Encouraged, he rubs his nose against Peter’s jaw line and hums in the way the man does too. Peter approvingly strokes his face and with a palm placed on his cheek, he guides him to continue. Stiles opens his mouth to suck firmly on his neck again. He goes harder this time and ignores how Peter’s chest presses to him and he can’t breathe or move much. Only his fingersare able to slide lower.

 

“That’s enough,” Peter hisses and moves back, catching Stiles’ wandering hand and pins it above his head again. “You don’t know what you are doing.”

 

“Marking you? I know enough about your animal instinct of possessiveness. I don’t know what exactly is behind your argument with Derek, but I know it is something about me. I guess telling me could destroy your mysterious charm?”

 

“And I’m fine with my charm,” Peter grins again and kisses him. He looks so god damn pleased that Stiles stops questioning why he won’t say anything to him and focuses on the pleasant closeness. But he will press him later, maybe he can try to push Isaac if he doesn’t know something.

 

Peter rolls off again and sits beside him, Stiles lifts himself up, relieving his back from the hard wood and leans back on his arms. He really loves the place, the calming silence; they are completely alone except for the birds singing and tweeting in the trees. From his side Peter starts nibbling on his lips, kissing his nose and over his eyelids. Stiles squirms as it tickles. “This is not the manhandling I was expecting from you.”

 

“You are letting me handle you gently.”

 

“So, you’d stop if I asked it?”

 

“If you insisted. I don’t want you to say no, though. I wouldn’t stop trying to convince you, but I gave you my word earlier, I wouldn’t use force. You can try to say no to me, but I can hear you blood pulsing, smell your arousal and feel you shivering,” Peter mutters into his ear. “You are shaking impatiently, not fearfully. Your body always betrays you.”

 

Stiles doesn’t bother thinking when he quickly moves his hand to Peter’s groin though the man is even faster and grips his wrist. “So does yours,” he returns and presses his palm down, feeling the shape of the man’s erection. Even though he’s holding Stiles’ arm, he doesn’t tug him away and lets him take a stronger grip. This game can only be played with two players on the board. He’s never had a different cock than his own in his hand and he moves his wrist in an awkward opposite way as he tries to stroke him. Stiles glances down and feels daring when hooks his fingers on the man’s underwear, tugging it lower. Peter’s grip on his arm is meaningless now as he isn’t holding him back and is letting Stiles do anything he wants. Stiles uses his other hand too and tugs on both sides when Peter lifts a bit and he can get him naked again.

 

“Uh,” his eyes are glutted down. “Hello there,” he’s embarrassed as he stares at the full erected cock. “I’ve never-”

 

“I know,” Peter interrupts him. Stiles can feel his eyes on his face but he refuses to glance up. His hand freezes when Peter leans in and he closes his eyes. The man kisses him and Stiles can relax against his mouth, slowly taking courage to move his hand. Even though he’s sweating, his palm is dry and he moves his thumb over the top to get it wet and smooth. He wants it to feel good, but his mind is blank and he can't remember anything he likes on himself. Should he try to lick him? Peter seems to be really big in his palm and he doesn’t know if it is going to be alright. He doesn’t want to look like a blushing virgin who immediately flinches away. Peter breaths in deeply and Stiles freezes.

 

“You okay?” Peter mutters against his lips.

 

“Yeah, I-I just don’t know-” He babbles and gets afraid he’s ruining everything.

 

Peter groans and moves Stiles’ hand away, but before he can protest, Peter is back on his feet, jumping into the water once again and quickly swimming away. _Very mature_ he wants to shout after him, but he stops himself and a chill runs down his back it _was_ a mature decision. What at first looked as a step back, now makes Peter rise in his esteem **.** Everything he’s been doing lately has been done with theintention to push Stiles’ limits, he gave him a freaking sex toy plus hundreds of hours of porn for god's sake yet doing it for real is a jump too far.

 

The man takes his time before he gets back.

 

“Stiles, look-” He says when he emerges from the water and grips the wood.

 

“I got it,” Stiles interrupts him impulsively. “It’s not that you don’t want, but… Yeah, I got it. You are not the bad guy here.”

 

“I know you are curious, you can’t understand how strong your scent of arousal is. But this seriously has to wait. Wash your hand.” Stiles nods in acknowledgment and leans over the edge. “And under nails, too,” Peter adds. In the mean time he climbs up and puts on his boxers. Stiles smiles to himself while staring into the water. He’s so obvious.

 

“Seems to me,” he says when he turns back at him and grins. “Like you are scared of our big bad Alpha.”

 

Peter huffs. “Just a survival instinct. It comes naturally after you die for the first time.”

 

“Could he really smell it?”

 

“Not worth the risk, I’m still not perfectly healed to get my ass kicked tonight.” He reaches for Stiles’ hand and brings it under his nose. Stiles thinks it has to be clean **,** he barely touched him, but Peter probably thinks otherwise when his tongue darts out of his mouth and starts licking Stiles’ palm.

 

“Is this necessary or are you just taking advantage of the situation?”

 

“Saliva’s fine,” Peter smirks and continues to put kisses over his wrist.

 

“I still don’t understand how you couldn’t hear him coming.”

 

“I did.”

 

“But you… You did it on purpose? How could you?”

 

“I wanted to see his face when he would see my mark on you.”

 

Stiles takes in a deep breath and asks as calmly as he can. “Why?”

 

“With you by my side he’s being challenged and he’s learning how to be able to bear it. And we need to have a strong Alpha in our pack.”

 

“Do you do anything without thinking two steps forward?”

 

“I’m being rational. We are in a constant danger. Nobody trained him to be an Alpha, a leader. He needs to be guided and I’m the only one who knows how to do it.”

 

“For your own benefit.”

 

“More or less, you are the cherry on the top of the proverbial cake.”

 

“You’re very confident about me being on your side. I don’t want to choose sides.”

 

“Then don’t choose. Do what feels right. Listen to your instinct.” Peter is loosely holding his hand and Stiles watches as he plays with his fingers.

 

But every time he looks into Peter’s eyes, his gut tightens with a strange feeling of proximity he doesn’t have with anyone else he knows. Call him foolish, but his _instinct_ , as Peter names it, is saying their bond is honest. Only time will show if he’s right or if he was deluded.

 

ˇˇˇˇˇˇ

 

When they get back to the apartment, there is only Isaac watching the TV Derek reluctantly bought that week. His wish was to use the flat only for sleeping and hiding from the world; he couldn’t know it was going to become a drop off place for half of the pack. But except for abit of growling, he didn’t protest. Having a pack was getting under his skin, too.

 

Peter sends him to sit next to Isaac while he goes upstairs. Stiles jumps on the sofa with a grin and nods at staring Isaac whose face twists with disgust as his nostrils flare.

 

“You stink so bad, I always knew you were weird but _him_?” He looks up into Peter’s direction and leans away. Stiles makes a face and shrugs.

 

“Weirder things happened. Have you heard of-”

 

“No,” Isaac turns him down and brings his eyes back on the screen. “And I don’t wanna know. By the way, you are cleaning the sheets. Seriously, in my bed? Where am I supposed to sleep tonight if it reeks of you two?”

 

“Well,” Stiles smirks and lifts his arm to point at Derek’s bed.

 

“Don’t you dare,” Isaac stops him. “I’ll take the couch.”

“Where is the big doggie anyway?”

 

Isaac shrugs. “He wasn’t here when Scott dropped me after school.”

 

“Do you ever go home?”

 

“Home?”

 

“I mean…where you lived with your dad.”

 

“They took the house after he was killed.”

 

“Wait, but you are under-aged **,** so-”

 

“Yep, Derek is my guardian. Don’t ask me. I don’t exactly know how he did it, but at least I don’t have to go into a foster home, which would be a disaster. He’s also taking care of the paperwork about the house at the same time as mine **.** It takes time.”

 

“I’m trying to imagine Derek waiting in queues with filled forms,” Stiles laughs. “I’m going to take a photo and use it against him later.”

 

“Actually,” Isaac smirks. “He’s using someone else to be his servant for this. He has him on a leash.”

 

They both turn their head to the spiral stairs as Peter’s boots resound at the top. He looks different, going down with a hostile expression on his face and… Did he comb his hair?

 

Before Peter sits down, he goes around and stands behind them. He puts his hand on Isaac’s shoulder. In a matter of second, his claws sink into Isaac’s arm and the boy’s eyes twitch **.**

 

“Oh my god! What are you doing?” Stiles jumps off his seat and grips his wrist.

 

“Teaching,” Peter pulls his claws back and takes Stiles' hand into a firm hold. “I think Isaac understands, doesn’t he?”

 

Isaac nods and stares in front of himself.

 

Peter lets go of Stiles’ hand and goes around the couch to sit by his side. “Young wolves need training or they would go wild and nobody wants that. He needs to know where the boundaries stand. What would you do if he lost control while you were alone with him?”

 

“He wouldn’t attack me, right, Isaac?” Stiles turns at him.

 

“I don’t know, anything can happen,” the boy shrugs.

 

“He maybe thinks you are threatening his place in the pack.”

 

Isaac’s head snaps at Peter and quietly growls in the back of his throat.

 

“As I thought. But he knows you are not doing that,” Peters’ voice roughens and his arm winds around Stiles’ chest. “You have your own place now.”

 

Stiles doesn’t understand everything that just happened, but he lets Peter bring him down, he puts his hand over Peter’s and shifts to find a comfortable position with his feet on the coffee table before taking in a deep breath and calmly letting it out.

 

Functioning as a pack when they don’t trust to each other is hard. Stiles at this point doesn’t trust fully anyone of them but Scott, who doesn’t even accept Derek as his Alpha. Derek looks at Stiles as a burden he has to bear; Isaac has just admitted he could easily hurt him and Peter… That’s a chapter in itself.

 

He tries to watch the unfamiliar movie, but soon he loses his concentration, drops his head back onto Peter’s shoulder and closes his eyes.

 

ˇˇˇˇˇˇ

 

Stiles wakes with his phone ringing in his pocket, he blinks and realizes he is still on the sofa with Peter, only Isaac is missing. He answers the call and shifts in Peter’s loose embrace.

 

“Dude, where are you?” Scott huffs into his hear. “My mum sent me with dinner for you, but you aren’t even home! I’ve missed my date with Allison and she’s pissed off now. She’s leaving next week!”

 

“Sorry, I didn’t know it was so soon,” he rubs his eyes with the back of his palm and sighs. Peter’s hand strokes his stomach and he turns and smiles at him.

 

“But where are you?”

 

“I’m… at Derek’s. I didn’t want to be in the house alone. But I’ll see you in school tomorrow,” he assures him and Peter raises his eyebrows high and tilts his head. “…or maybe not.” Stiles adds after a while.

 

“What did you say?”

 

“Nothing, I’m going to take dad home from the hospital tomorrow, so I’m not sure if I can make it to school, okay

 

“Fine, say hi to your dad, bye,” Scott says quickly.

 

He replies _bye_ too and then hangs up. “I’m not going to school tomorrow?” He asks with a tilted head.

 

“We’re going shopping.”

 

“I thought you weren’t serious. Taking me shopping instead of school - shouldn’t you be the responsible one here? Send me to clean my teeth and go to bed before ten?”

 

“I should definitely send you to bed,” Peter leans in to kiss him.

 

Stiles hears a person clearing his throat and turns around to see Derek sitting on his bed staring into some book.

 

“Oh, hey, Derek,” Stiles flushes red and hits Peter into his shoulder giving him a pointed look.

 

“Ouch,” Peter smirks back and kisses his throat anyway. He looks back at Derek who is glaring across the room at them, obviously pissed off and taking deep, calming breaths through his nose.

 

“Where’s Isaac?” Stiles asks both of them to change the subject.

 

“Out. For pizza,” Peter answers shortly against his skin.

 

“The fridge is full of food.”

 

“He offered to go. Saying something about a tense atmosphere in here,” Peter finishes as he leans back with a light smile and runs his fingers through Stiles’ hair. “Not sure what he meant.”

 

Derek snorts, but doesn’t add anything.

 

“So, is everything okay?” Stiles flicks his eyes to Derek and then back at Peter.

 

“Of course,” Peter smirks. “Derek said that in your sleep you looked like an angel.”

 

“I didn’t say anything like that,” Derek protests quietly.

 

Stiles gasps and lifts his hand to point at Derek. “He can talk,” he says with false surprise. Peter’s face twists and he chuckles as he presses his forehead to Stiles’ shoulder.

 

“You two were seriously looking for each other,” Derek comments wryly while shaking his head. Peter lifts his head enough to look at Stiles and his eyes are serious, Stiles sobers too and turns his head enough to kiss Peter on his jaw and neck. Peter’s head is tilted to the side and he is making a low droning sound in his throat as his eyes bore into Derek's own. Stiles can only imagine what message they are sending each other. Maybe Peter is smiling and playing the game along with Stiles; nevertheless, when it comes to others, he hasn’t stopped being dangerous and cautious. And Stiles still knows he can’t be sure if Peter won’t ever snap and slip back into his insanity.

 

“So, what is the plan for tonight? When is Isaac coming back?”

 

“He’s left about an hour ago. Maybe you should check up on him?” Peter suggests to Derek. “He was obviously distressed, Derek.”

 

“Like you care. He’s old enough to spend an evening alone. If he wants to, he’ll come back.”

 

“I don’t doubt his maturity, but if I were you I would be wary of letting him out all night. Just because the Alphas are holding back, that doesn’t mean they can’t be up to something. And Isaac can very easily go missing. A short text from his Alpha never hurt.”

 

Derek obviously doesn’t want to show he is worried, but after a minute he sighs and reaches for his phone. The speed he snaps it open when a few minutes later he gets an answer back, brings a smile on Stiles’ lips.

 

“Idiot,” Derek groans. “I’m going to get him.”

 

“Where did he go?” Stiles asks curiously.

 

“The subway depot.”

 

Peter’s _told you so_ face is hilarious.

 

“Did he say something to you when I was sleeping?” Stiles asks a minute later after Derek leaves.

 

“Not much. The sexual pheromones were driving them both crazy. The reason Isaac wanted to get out wasn’t a disapproval of us together, but that he couldn’t have the same. And Derek knows very well what or _who_ the origin of Isaac’s desperation is.”

 

“Wait a second, are you trying to set them up?” Stiles gives him a look of disbelief **.**

 

Peter smirks. “Are you accusing me of manipulating two emotionally,” he says and puts his hand on Stiles’s neck to bring him closer, “and sexually drained men,” Peter shortly kisses his cheek and takes a new breath. “Under very stressful circumstances, when their nerves are on the brink because of the deadly danger of an attack of a rival Alpha pack,” another kiss, “and they both haven’t or never been in an intimate relationship for a long time, into a bond that could result into a romance between two lonely wolves?”

 

“Yes,” Stiles says with a grin.

 

“Then I am.”   

 

“Huh! You dirty old matchmaker.”

 

“Old? I’ll show you old,” Peter sneers, drags him by his waist and throws him flat over the sofa. Stiles groans and laughs, pulling his legs up and Peter quickly settles between them. He grips the man by his neck and tugs down; Peter doesn’t wait for anything and immediately pressestheir lips together.

 

“We have about an hour before they get back,” Peter mutters and lifts his head.

 

“Why are you wasting it with talking?” Stiles immediately drags him back down.

 

ˇˇˇˇˇˇ

 

Stiles can’t read his real emotionsfrom Isaac’s face when he appears in the doorway with a frowning Derek behind him, but hecertainly doesn’t seem to mind being back with them. Their strange group of four will be spending the evening together and Stiles doesn’t feel as abandoned as before. They share the leftovers from the fridge half sitting half lying over the couch that can barely hold up four grown men and Stiles uses this disadvantage to shamelessly sprawl over Peter. Isaac doesn’t stop glancing at Derek who is crouching in the opposite corner and crushing the armrest with his hand; the tension between them is almost tangible.

 

“Sooo.” Stiles stretches his arms above his head and tug’s Peter by his hair shortly before the man slaps his hand away. “This is fun, isn’t it?” He looks around.

 

Derek stares at the screen the same way he did twenty minutes ago and Isaac gives him an unsure glance. Stiles turns back to Peter who lifts his right eyebrow. He sighs and shifts on his spot, stretches his legs out and then crosses his right leg over the left just to change them a minute later. He’s bored. Stiles takes his phone from his pants and writes a text to his dad asking if he’s fine.

 

“You’ve got a new phone?” Isaac asks.

 

“Yeah, I- I did,” Stiles babbles taken by a surprise. He offers Isaac to take a look at it. “The previous one drowned in a school swimming pool.”

 

Derek lifts his head sharply as he realises what Stiles means. He mutters something.

 

“I’m sorry, Derek? I can’t hear you?” He twists his lips into a smirk.

 

“How much did it cost,” Derek says a bit louder and obviously uncomfortable.

 

“Don’t worry, buddy. It was a gift,” he replies light-heartedly and squeezes Peter’s hand on his stomach. “You don’t have to thank me for not letting you drown instead of my phone.”

 

Derek glares at him and then his eyes drop to the floor as he doesn’t know how to react. He looks lost and Stiles nudges Isaac with his elbow. He points to Derek with his chin and Isaac shakes his head violently. Stiles quickly nods and smiles with wide open eyes to encourage him. Isaac gulps and hesitantly puts his hand on Derek’s shoulder. The man glances up at the hand, then to Isaac’s face and finally to Stiles.

 

“I didn’t mind helping you, big wolf. It’s really fine,” he assures him grinning and watches as Derek finally allows himself to relax and leans back, Isaac’s hand sliding down on his forearm and Derek doesn’t shrug him off, only freezes in his spot and stares forward. Stiles considers that a win and tilts his head backwards when Peter ruffles his hair. It’s like playing with a bunch of puppies.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry for all the mistakes you find, English is not my first language and this work is obviously unbeta-readed (the position is open for you if anyone is interested).
> 
> More chapters are to go up, most of it is written, in the end I see it for about 30k;)
> 
> Thanks for your time:)


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